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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760759">The light is where I hide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nik_nimmi/pseuds/nik_nimmi'>nik_nimmi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I found a home (in you) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, Alternate Universe - Fashion &amp; Models, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Model Lee Taeyong, Photographer Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, Single Parents, markhyuck are kids, taeyong is a dad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:49:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nik_nimmi/pseuds/nik_nimmi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaehyun is rookie actor, hitting it in the spotlight after gaining attention for his photography online, and soon after his visuals and skills.</p><p>He's young, lively, and has everything going for him, when Taeyong meets him for the first time.</p><p>Too bad Taeyong's too busy guarding secrets of his own, hidden behind the shadows of the limelight. </p><p>They stand at two edges of the same reality, and with a little push, they collide.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I found a home (in you) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Helloooooo!!!!</p><p>So this is part of the same universe as Puzzel Piece but!! You don't need to read any one to understand the other, this can easily be read as a stand alone too, though there will be a few references *later* in the fic. Would like to put it out there this is pure fiction, not assuming anything about anyone here, merely using it as a medium to practice my writing!!!!</p><p>Ms. Kim is mildly inspired from Boss Kim of Esteem, and Jihye is OC.  I will not be be extremely accurate in the depiction of the profession, I have limited knowledge but I'll try to keep it toned down (?) sgfdgkhjg enough of that go read!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Tilt your chin a little, a little m-okay, that's perfect. Beautiful."</p><p>The camera's flash blinds him momentarily. It's only a second until he starts changing his position, making use of his body as much as possible. Putting his arms above his head, the see-through pink fabric stretching across his torso and revealing a silver of skin along his waist, he moves his head to the right. The cameras flash faster this time, one after the other, and he feels a swell of satisfaction settle in his chest.</p><p>Taeyong was a busy man.</p><p>A model under an acclaimed agency, Taeyong was already approaching his sixth year in the industry. Though he started it out as just a part-time thing, it's quickly taken over as his new career, and considering his pay checks, he’s not really in a place to complain.</p><p>Once the photographer finally announces all his shots are good to go, he relaxes. He thanks the staff as he gets up and moves towards the dressing rooms, wishing everyone a good day with a smile. By the time he changes out of the clothes, make up wiped off and free of any accessories, it's already well past 4 PM. Taeyong gathers his things as soon as he can, shoving all he can see and zipping his bag up (he knows he's going to regret later when his chargers end up getting tangled with his bracelets again, but oh well) and bids everyone a rushed farewell. He runs down the stairs, taking two at a time (he presses his luck every time) and rushes out into the cool winter air.</p><p>The next bus is in five minutes, but Taeyong's anxiety is still going through the roof. The shoot took much longer than he'd expected, the sky already starting to dim. His initial intention was to be back by 3 at the latest, but the photographer had other plans, and he didn't really have much of a say in the scheduling if he wanted to get his full payment on time. He starts biting his nails, and just then, the bus finally pulls up. The driver gives him a warm smile, years of transit bringing familiarity to his features, and he swipes his card before settling near the back.</p><p>Only a few minutes later, does a drop of water start its downward trickle. Taeyong sighs, head resting against the cool window. He should've packed in an umbrella, especially after the last week's weather reports, but he was already running late in the morning. He could take shelter in the coffee shop near the bus stop until it would stop, but the rain was no reliable friend; one that arrived and left whenever it wanted to. Now, he thinks sadly, he'll have to end up getting soaked again.</p><p> </p><p><em>It'll be worth it</em>, he tells himself, <em>it'll be worth it.</em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>And worth it, it is.</p><p>"Hello," he calls out, stepping into his entryway, "is anyone at home?"</p><p>It takes only a second, before he hears a gasp and the telling patter of footsteps. Taeyong couldn't smile wider if he tried; all exhaustion leaving him as his son came running into his arms.</p><p>"Wait," he stopped Mark, who immediately pouted. His hair looked like a mess, Taeyong guessing he woke up not too long ago. He gestured to himself, his hair and clothes still dripping. "Apa still needs to clean up, you don't want to get wet, do you?"</p><p>"But I miss you!"</p><p>"I miss you too, love," he said softly, "so I'll quickly get changed. Then we can cook something together," he crouched down, slipping off his bag. "Can you please get Apa some choco milk?”</p><p>Mark nodded, hair flopping up and down before he ran to the kitchen. Taeyong sat down quietly than, lacing off his shoes. It was inevitable, he thought as he left a trail of puddles on his way to the bedroom. He should really start keeping a few towels or mats near the door just in case this happened again. He can hear Mark humming to himself as he enters the bedroom, feeling warmer despite the sinking cold outside.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It's an hour later, and he's safely nestled under blankets in the living room, the plush sofa pulling him in deeper. Mark is right by his side, munching on honey crackers that Taeyong had bought for him, as they both watched lion king on the tv.</p><p>And yet, contrary to what his sister thinks, it <em>is</em> boring to watch the same movie for 2467th time. He's so fucking done with it that he's almost memorized more than half the movie, but Mark absolutely adores it with a burning passion, and if there was anyone he would be willing to torture himself for, it's his son.</p><p>But there's something off today, and he despises the sense of foreboding constantly making rounds inside of him.</p><p>Mark is eerily quiet. He's usually full of words, mimicking the characters, brokenly singing along, eyes lit up as he squeaks in excitement for the nth time. It's the only reason it's ended up becoming a routine, allowing him to be more expressive, more articulate in the questions he'd pester Taeyong with. He's full of stories too, about kids at the nursery, Yuta (Mark's babysitter and Taeyong’s best friend), even the little bugs he found on the street.</p><p>But today, all his son does is snuggle into his side, eyes drowsy as he munches on the crackers and stares at the screen. He's clingy as well; whining whenever Taeyong or he has to get up for a bathroom break or to grab a glass of water.</p><p>Eventually, the end credits start rolling, and instead of letting out a cheer, Mark just buries his head into the blanket.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong's starting to get concerned.</p><p>"Love," he calls out, voice soft as he cards his fingers through Mark's hair. <em>It's getting long again.</em> Mark mumbles out something, and Taeyong has to strain to even hear him, his voice muffled through the fabric.</p><p>" 'm not feeling good."</p><p><em>Oh no,</em> Taeyong worried his lip, <em>not a fever, please no.</em></p><p>But a touch on his forehead reveals his temperature to be normal. It still doesn't do much to quell his anxiety, so he gets them both ready for bed time earlier than usual (not like Mark's complaining, he's almost asleep by the time he changes into his pyjamas). Just as he pulls Mark closer on the bed, sure that his son's fallen asleep, Mark whispers to him: "Apa?"</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Don't-don’t  go tomorrow, okay? Stay with me."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Taeyong, you can't just suddenly cancel like this. You realize how much they're offering? Not only that, this might land you a brand dea-"</p><p>"-I think I've made myself clear."</p><p>"-but Tae-"</p><p>"-have a nice day, Jihye."</p><p>Turning it to silent, he throws his phone on the sofa. Mark has indeed caught a cold, crying in the middle of the night because he couldn't breathe properly.</p><p>Sighing, he got started on breakfast. Sick days were absolute horrid, something that belonged to the ninth circle of hell.  The first few days would be filled with mountain upon mountains of tissues, tears, and a lot of inhalers. Mark's mother was the exact same, back when they first dated for a while. Absolute menace every time she caught a cold, spending days in bed just binging shows as she survived off of cheap chicken broth.</p><p>He huffs out a laugh, fondly reminiscing the times he'd bring over containers of salads and fruit, talking till wee hours of the morning because she felt too lonely on her own. The rice cooker beeps behind him, and he trips out of memory lane into reality.</p><p>He had a son to attend to.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"One more, please, for me?"</p><p>He's internally on the verge of tears himself, watching Mark find it hard to even swallow down some food. He still needs to eat something, if he's going to be drinking the medicine an hour from now. Mark pouts, his eyes a little teary as he finally opens his mouth. Taeyong could sob in relief; instead he feeds him the last bite, and gives him a glass of warm honey water. Once Mark finishes it all (<em>without!!complaining!!</em>) he drops a kiss on his forehead, pleased to find it cooler than before.</p><p>He leaves Mark to watch his shows on the TV, as he gets started with the dishes. He'll need to check back in at the office too, considering he was already on his third (and sadly last) paid leave of the month. His boss had been understanding, when he'd explained his situation to her, giving him two extra days compared to the rest. Taeyong’s forever grateful for the handful of people he has in his life, because there was no way he would’ve been able to get this far without them.</p><p>His phone buzzes from the counter-top. He turns it on, a few messages from his neighbour, Arin, greeting him. Taeyong smiled, unable to keep the joy away as she told him she’d be arriving back tomorrow. She was always a delight to have around, and loved Mark to bits. He wished her a safe trip, before pushing his sleeves up and getting to it.</p><p>It felt… <em>wrong</em>, standing alone in the kitchen. Usually he’s accompanied by Mark, swinging his legs as he munches on a fruit, either talking or just watching him do his thing. Taeyong wished he could keep his worry at bay, knowing that it was just a small cold that would eventually go away, but he couldn’t help but think of what would happen when he’d have to go back for his shoots. What if it got worse at nursery? Or Yuta couldn’t handle it? What if Mark needed him, and he’s not there in time?</p><p>He hates himself for it. Taeyong starts scrubbing harder—even though he doesn’t need to—just to redirect his train of thought somewhere else. His hands sting after he’s done, but he doesn’t pay them mind, drying them and keeping the dishes back on the rack.</p><p>Mark’s dead asleep when he goes back to check on him. He checks his temperature, just in case, glad to find it relatively normal. Taeyong picks him up, seating him on the closed toilet so he can brush his teeth. Mark grumbles at his sleep being disturbed, but otherwise doesn’t do much. Once he wipes his face clean, he places him back in bed, tucking him in. Taeyong sighs, lying next to him. He cards his fingers through Marks’s hair. Having him in sight makes it easier for him to relax, and somewhere along the way, Taeyong falls asleep too, hand still wrapped around his boy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Taeyong,” Yuta chides, pulling his hand away, “stop that, you’ll end making them bleed again.”</p><p>Taeyong removed his hands, observing the sorry state of his nails. He’d have to get a manicure again. Yuta had gladly accepted his plea for help, as Taeyong geared up for another day full of schedules. He had three shoots lined back to back, and there was some talk of an interview too, for the new magazine he’d started working with a few months prior.</p><p>“You’ll call me if anything happens, right? And remember, the-“</p><p>“-medicine is in the last drawer, the food is in the fridge, and you only a call away. <em>Yes</em>, now get going.”</p><p>His cheeks flame in embarrassment at Yuta’s imitation of him, but after one final hug, he was out and ready to go. <em>I should really buy a car,</em> he thinks, checking his watch. The bus pulls up minutes later, and Taeyong hops on, adjusting his mask before settling in the back. Not many people usually recognised him, but the few that did would just not leave him alone. He would rather be safe, than to risk his peace again.</p><p>The roads were bright, sunlight making the road shimmer. Summer was here, and soon the season would start again, show after show lined up. He liked his job, he really did, but at times it would just be so utterly <em>tiring</em>. Taeyong lays his head against the headrest, and prays for sleep to come in the half hour it would take to finally reach his agency.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning! How’s Mark doing?” Jihye asks immediately, getting up from her seat and walking towards him. Her smile is bright, her demeanour even brighter, and Taeyong breathes a sigh of relief that she’s not mad at him. She’s his manager, been one for four years now, and while she’s understanding of him most of the time, her anger is something that just <em>should </em>not be triggered.</p><p>“Better, Yuta’s sitting for him today,” he tells her, following as she goes upstairs. “We’ll leave in half an hour,” she tells him, “you’ll be meeting with W first, and there’s going to be an interview session. The questions were sent in last night, so you can think the answers over, and tell me if there’s any that you don’t want to answer. Then we have one for Tiffany &amp; co., and a final one for a new summer collection,” she rattles them off, until they finally reach the conference room.</p><p>“But before that,” she says, turning around. Taeyong <em>hates </em>that sentence, and hopes for the best as she regards him. “Ms. Kim wants to talk. I don’t know how long I can stay, but I’ll be with you for as long as I can, okay?”</p><p>Taeyong nods, before entering the room. He bows in greeting, a smile in place, as Ms. Kim regards him with kind eyes. “Sit,” she tells him, and he notices a man he’s not familiar with already next to her. They talk with each other, before they finally quiet down. “How long will he take?” she asks the man, and he murmurs a ‘five minutes’ before she turns her attention back to him.</p><p>“By the time he gets here, I’ll give you a brief run down,” Taeyong wonders who the ‘he’ is, the question swirling in his mouth, too timid to leave. “Last year you walked 18 shows during Seoul Fashion week, the first model from our agency to do so, and an all-time high for you too.” He remembers it clearly, remembers the articles, the media buzz, the flashing lights and the chaos that enveloped him. Mark had gone to his grandparent’s for the duration, Taeyong unaware of when night ended and day started, jumping from one show to another. It was <em>exhausting</em>, but it was also one of his most exhilarating moments in his career. Taeyong had never felt more <em>alive</em>, dazzling under the stage lights.</p><p>“Thankfully, the attention’s been keeping you booked enough, that it doesn’t really effect the few offers we do turn down. The thing is, there’s this new show starting up soon,” <em>oh no</em>. “An insight into different careers. The hosts are Johnny Suh and Moon Taeil,” <em>oh no no no, </em>“and each episode has a segment of every field.”</p><p>“You want me to go.” he says. She nods, and at his fallen expression, she hurries to say: “we’ve talked to them about your situation. The camera’s going to be following you <em>during</em> your work, so it won’t take too much extra time. And! You’ll only need to be there occasionally, since they’re filming four different models.”</p><p>“But why me? There are so many others too, who could do just as much as a good job,” he says, “<em>And</em> have broadcast experience. With my current schedule, I don’t think I can.” And Taeyong gives her an apologetic smile.</p><p>But oh, was Ms. Kim persistent. “Taeyong, we’re already sending a rookie, two who have gone abroad as well, and all we need is <em>you</em>. They even requested for you specifically. You don’t use your social much anyway, so your fans would be over the moon. Please,” she pleads, “just consider it. Even if it’s a few episodes. It happens all the time, people leave mid-way because of scheduling conflicts, and we can do the same for you.”</p><p>He runs a hand through his hair, “why do you want me to go so bad, noona? Is there another reason?” When she doesn’t reply, he lets out a sigh. “It better be a good one.”</p><p>“Paris,” she says, and he feels the atmosphere in the room shift. “You always wanted to visit, didn’t you?”</p><p><em>How was this related?</em> At his confusion, she elaborated, “A famous photographer is coming on the show too. He has a pictorial coming up in autumn, and we’re hoping you could end up making it on there. It might just land you an invite to fashion week, and even if it doesn’t, I’ll make sure to somehow get you there, the exposure from this show will be more than enough. This is a golden opportunity to make connections, Taeyong.”</p><p>He feels the fight leave him, little by little. Even if he didn’t end up going, it would still be good to get his name out there a little more. The life of a model was over in a glimpse, and you had to make sure to get the most out of it. Very few make it to the top, even less that stay in the industry longer.</p><p>“Who is it?” he asks.</p><p>“Jung Jae-oh! He’s here,” Taeyong looks at the door, to find a man all too familiar bowing in greeting. “There he is, Jung Jaehyun.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry for the delay,” he says, mildly out of breath. There’s a flush splashed across his skin, and Taeyong wonders if he ran over.</p><p>
  <em>Jung Jaehyun.</em>
</p><p>“Please take a seat!” Ms. Kim says, gesturing towards the one opposite him, “we were just starting. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>He drags the seat across the floor, and Taeyong internally cringes at the sound. Jaehyun’s sporting a smile, the same one he’s seen countless times, the dimples making their appearance along with them.</p><p>“Taeyong, meet Jaehyun. His pictorial last season alone managed to sell out <em>twice</em>, and he’s more than eager to consider working with us for any future projects,” Taeyong would frown, if it weren’t for how obviously eager to please Ms. Kim seemed to look. He belatedly realizes this was going to be one of <em>those </em>meetings, and feels exhaustion crawl all over his skin before his day has even managed to start.</p><p>“Jaehyun, this is Taeyong, easily one of our best and most-sought out models,” Jaehyun flashes him a small smile along with a nod, and Taeyong does the same. The man—who he finds out is one of the producers on the show—explains to them exactly what the program would entail, how it would pan out with the filming and the mini-interviews, and throws in the nearly obligatory ‘this isn’t like the other shows’ comment that makes him want to roll his eyes.</p><p>Though, he can see Jaehyun nod eagerly along to what the man’s saying, eyes trained on him in utmost attention. It’s funny, only because Taeyong’s heard of these meta-commentary shows so many times over the course of his career, whether from colleagues or waiting room gossip.</p><p>“There’s the panel segment, where all of you would be reacting to your own and the other cast members’ work. The cuts that air are only around thirty to forty minutes, but the filming will mostly take between two to three hours.”</p><p>“Would the filming be done at night?” Taeyong asks.</p><p>“Oh no! We’ll try to finish up by the afternoon; early morning is what would work best for everyone to come on set anyway. That’s fine with you, Jaehyun-ssi?”</p><p>“Completely, whatever works best is good with me too.”</p><p>“Alright then,” Ms. Kim says, “any other questions?”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Jaehyun had many.</p><p>Taeyong had left though, a few minutes after the other had starting asking, a schedule lined up. He meets Jihye outside, who glances up from her phone immediately as she hears his footsteps closing in.</p><p>“So, you agreed?”</p><p>Taeyong sighs, and that’s all the confirmation she needs. The van waiting for him outside offers him some comfort, the familiarity of it keeping his growing anxiety at bay. Did he make the right decision? It wasn’t like he was the only model on the show anyway, so the attention would be split amongst them. And not to mention, Taeyong didn’t really have anything interesting to show, unless it was him either sleeping or eating in the confines of his van. A week, maybe two or three? That would probably be how long he’d last.</p><p>His mind briefly wanders over to Jaehyun.</p><p>He’d heard of the other, of course he had, it was impossible not to when almost everyone around him had mentioned the name once. Started by posting his photos on his blogs, he’d caught the attention of some magazine, and with his looks and personality, it wasn’t hard for his popularity to soar. He was still a rookie though, but that didn’t stop his manager from fangirling over every new selfie he posted.</p><p>“He’s even better in person, isn’t he?” Jihye pipes up from the front, “I had to like, hold the wall casually when he passed by. And now I’m going to see him even <em>more,</em> oh my god, Taeyong, should I ask Yunho instead? He can watch over you during the shooting, but then…when else will I get to see—“</p><p>He tunes her out, pushing in his earphones. The music drifts in, and Taeyong tries relishing in it, instead of focusing on the tightening knot of his stomach.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>At the very least, it all falls away when he gets in his zone.</p><p>Taeyong thinks this might be one of his favourite shoots. The sweater vest fit just <em>right</em>, hugging his shoulders, and combined with the black slacks, manages to enhance his physique even more. The hair stylist walks closer the moment the camera man pauses, fixing a few strands, before he gets back to posing.</p><p>The best part about the outfit? It had <em>gloves.</em></p><p>Delicate black laces, that swirled their way up his hands and stopped just shy of his elbows. He felt pretty, and the photographer had no qualms in reinforcing the feeling, compliment after compliment spilling out.</p><p>Once he was done, after a few more outfit changes, he sat down for the interview. He’d reviewed the questions in the car.</p><p>“It must be quite relaxing, returning home after a long day of work. Your fans have been continuously curious about your daily routines, especially since you’re a homebody. When do you think you’ll be showing them a glimpse of your life at home?”</p><p>Jihye gave the interviewer a pointed glance, confusion written on her face as she glanced at one of the staff members. The lady in front of him seemed unfazed, ready to note down any word that could come out of his mouth.</p><p>“Umm,” he starts, feeling unsure when no one interrupts them, “I-I’m not really comfortable, with those type of things. So unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon. I do plan on updating more often,” he says, inserting a laugh that makes her smile, “I know I don’t do it nearly enough.”</p><p>“Something you wanna’ keep hidden at home, hmm?” she asks, and he feels himself freeze, before realising it wasn’t an actual question; merely an offhanded comment.</p><p>“For the next questions, I’ll be…”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Taeyong—“</p><p>“Jihye I <em>told </em>you I’m not accepting any personal questions—it’s a rule,” he trudges inside the car, makeup wiped off, the clothes stored far far away. Now he was merely Lee Taeyong, a man with too many problems he wasn’t capable of handling.</p><p>“I <em>did </em>tell them, I don’t know what happened. I’ll speak to the team about it, if they pull this again we’re cancelling future interviews,” she shut the door as she got in, phone pressed against her ear as she reversed the car out of the parking. Guilt swims in his stomach; after all, Jihye more than anybody else understood how guarded he was when it came to his private life, but he couldn’t help it. The morning, combined with the stress of taking care of Mark during the weekend, was starting pour out.</p><p>He scratched his palm. <em>It’s okay</em>, he tells himself instead, pushing in an ear bud, <em>no one will know.</em></p><p>“Taeyong,” Jihye calls out, glancing at him in the rear view mirror, “hands away. We might have a jewellery showcase next week. Try lasting a week for once.”</p><p>The words make his skin prick, his face burning in shame as he looks away, hands now safely tucked underneath his thighs. <em>Right</em>, he thinks, instead pressing his head against the cool window. There was still an hour left till the next location, if could just find it in himself to fall asleep…</p><p>“Hey,” Jihye says again, this time voice softer, “we’ll keep him safe, alright? Don’t—don’t worry about it too much.”</p><p>Eyes still closed, he smiles a little, despite the gnawing feeling crawling all over him.</p><p>*</p><p>It’s hectic.</p><p>They had interns and newbies on the team, and it could be no more obvious. He had to stand and wait for fifteen minutes just to get a cup of <em>water</em>, and that was all he needed to be hundred percent sure. His face is young, a little panicked, maybe even around his age as he bows in apology.</p><p>“Sorry for the delay,” he says, and Taeyong waves him off. The summer heat is still going stronger than ever, and he was clad in a jacket made for the autumn winds. Every few minutes the stylist would have to come forward and wipe the sweat off, Taeyong himself hiding a few tissues in the inner pocket. The designer seemed like a sweet lady; maybe if he asked nicely enough she’d give him one for cheaper.</p><p>He mentally laments over the price of the garment, as he takes the water bottle from him. But before he could even utter his next words, the man hurries off. Taeyong stares in confusion, looking back down at the bottle. <em>No straws</em>, and oh, how torturous was the world he lived in. Did he trust himself enough to not spill any? He’s not sure, but he attempts anyway.</p><p>A few hours or more later, he sits in the dressing room, scrolling through his phone, thankfully no clothes ruined. It had taken way longer than usual, but at least he was <em>done.</em> The stylists chatter in the background, as he opens his chat with Yuta. His heart calms, after seeing a few pictures of Mark, his boy health and smiling in all of them. They talk for a bit, until Jihye finally comes back in, and he’s whisked away once more.</p><p>*</p><p>The night feels heavy, when he gets back, Yuta hugging him goodbye. Mark was fast asleep, and Taeyong stands there, leaning against the doorway, just looking at him. He breathing seemed even, and his fingers clutch the pillow tightly. He really shouldn’t have agreed, to go on the show. For Mark’s safety, for his privacy. But the sound of having a chance for Paris, to even tour the streets, and get his name out there…well, it was a golden chance.</p><p>He had to make sure everything would pan out well, could not leave any chance of doubt or uncertainty in Mark’s life. He peels off his clothes, one by one, and steps into the shower, letting the water rush over him and calm him down. Taeyong rests his head against the shower wall, and after a few minutes, tries working out the knots in his shoulders. That was one of the reasons he'd chosen to live in the expensive apartment, albeit it having one bedroom. The security was tight,  and he wanted--no, <em>needed</em>--to make sure he'd have enough,  that he could last enough for his son to grow up and stand his own ground.</p><p>When he finally comes out, a simple t-shirt and shorts, he settle in the living room instead. His downtime; to just let the pace of the world slow down, let time feel like little drops of water, instead of quicksand. His phone buzzes, from beside him, and after much contemplation, he pulls it closer.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Unknown Number</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Hey</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is Jaehyun </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry if this is a surprise or sudden and all</em>
</p><p>
  <em>but I hope we can do well on the show</em>
</p><p>
  <em>please guide me well ^^</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He smiles, despite himself. He wonders who it was, that gave the man his number. Ms. Kim? Or even Jihye, as much as Taeyong knew she respected his privacy, she would not hesitate to signing over everything in her name to Jaehyun if the man so much so asked. And the message…probably his management, encouraging making connections. No doubt Jaehyun probably sent the same to all the other cast members. So Taeyong decides to take pity on the boy’s soul, and humours him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Taeyong٩(◕‿◕｡)۶</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Hey</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, dw. I’m used to it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I don’t how exactly I’ll help, but I’ll try</em>
</p><p>He stares at his phone a little longer, but the offline mark stays the same. He puts it on silent, finally picking himself up, and getting under the covers, Mark tucked against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello!! Now that the first fic is over, im going to be focusing on this one completely. Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos/ comment if you like it!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He holds the marble counter, his knuckles turning white, and his breathing heavy. Taeyong’s in the washroom, the warm lighting doing nothing to soothe him.</p><p><em>Get yourself together,</em> he scolds himself. How was he supposed to protect Mark if he was going to let small things like this get to him? He could talk to Jihye, talk to Ms. Kim. Even quit the show, though he knows the speculation that’ll surround the articles will have him avoiding his phone for days. Worst comes to worst Mark could stay over at his grandparent’s, or even Yuta’s. Yes, there are…there are many  solutions, and all he needs to do is calm the fuck down.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>He startles, ripping his hands away and pulling them against his chest.</p><p>
  <em>Jaehyun.</em>
</p><p>He really needed to steel his nerves. The other’s looking at him carefully, with a hint of concern. Taeyong tries for a smile, but he wonders if its strained nature appears obvious. “Fine,” he says, and goes to wash his hands, “I’m fine, please go ahead.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t say anything more, giving him a polite bow of head before he goes into a stall. He breathes a sigh of relief, as the door clicks shut.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They wanted to film their homes.</p><p>Even though Ms. Kim had specifically <em>told </em>him they wouldn’t do so. Yet, the producer looks at him apologetically, as he holds him up after the meeting’s over. There’s only a few of the cast members left, Seulgi and Sooyoung from his agency, Johnny—who he’d met today—and of course, just his luck, Jaehyun.</p><p>He can’t help feeling paranoid, despite being out of earshot.</p><p>“Look, Taeyong-ssi,” the man starts again, and he feels the familiar throb of an oncoming headache, “it’s just—wouldn’t it be weird? Everyone’s agreed to it except you, and we won’t even be airing most of it—“</p><p>“If you’re not going to air it then <em>why </em>film it in the first place,” he asks, exasperated. “Don’t you have a family too?” There’s a flash of something in the other’s eyes, and he grapples for it, pushing forward. “He’s <em>three</em>, don’t you think it’ll become a stressful environment for him? And his safety?”</p><p>“I…” he frowns, and Taeyong wrings his fingers, waiting. He thinks it over for a few seconds more, until finally, he sighs. “Alright, I’ll…well, I’ll look into it, but no promises. Please be on your way, Taeyong-ssi.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he holds the man’s hands, breaking out into a smile, “thank you so much.”</p><p>When he goes to pack his things, another schedule lined up, he feels the weight of someone’s gaze on him. A quick sweep of eyes, and Johnny looks away the moment their eyes meet.</p><p><em>Okay,</em> he thinks, <em>weird.</em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“How do they find out so fast?” Taeyong whispers underneath his breath, “who the hell are all these ‘insiders’?”</p><p><strong>[</strong> <strong>⭐ BREAKING ⭐ ] <em>Rumoured line up for LIVTV’s new show. Lee Taeyong, Jung Jaehyun, Suh Johnny, Kang Seulgi, and more to be part of final cast</em></strong></p><p>And within minutes, his instagram is flooded with comments on his pictures, his official twitter tagged by multiple news sites one after the other. It’s a little scary, how the news spreads like wildfire. The comments are mostly confused or positive, at least those pertaining to him, and to no surprise, there’s a lot about Jaehyun too.</p><p>[+122] JUNG JAEHYUN JDJGUYSKGKFS AND JOHNNY AND SEULGI AND TAEYONG??? HAS GOD ANSWERED???IIFHNIEGFBYICUNSGSKKE</p><p>[+112] ooh, that’s interesting. I wonder how they’d interact and all, isn’t ty known to be super shy? Is the man gonna finally have more than three friends?</p><p>Taeyong pouts at that. There was nothing wrong with having a close but small social circle. And he had more than three friends.</p><p>[+223] does this mean…yknow….now that ty and jh are in one show….hmmmmmmmmmmmm</p><p>                [+191] bish can you imagine the visuals??? power couple indeed</p><p>                                [+55] PLEASE we’ll so be needing atleast ONE selfie from the two ugh</p><p>There were a lot of similar comments, in the sea that was the spam of fans freaking out over interactions. About him and Jaehyun, though Taeyong had never even met the man until a few days ago. Was it because he was a known model, and Jaehyun a photographer?</p><p>“Taeyong?” Jihye calls out, “you free for lunch?”</p><p>He looks up, humming. He only needed to pick Mark up from nursery, and that was after he was done. “Not really, is there a last-minute shoot?”</p><p>“Oh no,” Jihye laughs, “the others wanted to get lunch together. Ms. Kim might be there too, along with Seulgi and Sooyoung—I even heard they’re giving the rookie a stage name soon.”</p><p>“Sooyoung?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she takes a turn, reaching the highway. Jihye glances at him in rearview mirror, “so I’m taking that as a yes?”</p><p>Taeyong gives a noise of affirmation, diving into the posts his fans had spammed him with.</p><p>*</p><p>“Arin!” Mark immediately jumps off his arms, running to greet the woman waiting near his door. Taeyong feels his own smile break out, adjusting that bags on his shoulders. Her long brown hair now sways just a little above her shoulders, and her skin’s tanner after getting some good sunlight in Jeju. The break definitely worked in her favour; she’s practically glowing as she picks Mark up.</p><p>“Well, well, well,” she says, “if it isn’t my favourite three year old.” With that, she nuzzles in his hair, making him giggle. Taeyong gives her a side hug, moving to open the door, and letting the two in. He feels a sense of relief, hearing the two talk and bicker whatever weird topic Mark was interested in again, as he trudges to his room to finally peel away his clothes and wash away the day’s work.</p><p>He has to drag Mark away too, as he cutely whines, making them both laugh. Taeyong can barely make sure he won’t slip as he runs away from him, and to the living room, once he’d dressed.</p><p>“His birthday’s in august, right?”</p><p>Taeyong hums, getting them something to drink. “How was the trip, noona?”</p><p>“The work was pretty exhausting, not gonna’ lie, I had to still send over files because someone messed up at the office, but other than that,” she pauses, as she stops Mark from trying to taste her apple shaped keychain, “it was fun. You should—Mark, sweetie, I love you, but <em>no—</em>go, sometime, too.”</p><p>“If I could get the time,” he says, wistfulness creeping into his voice. Oh, to have the sun shine, and the peace descend on him for more than a few minutes, “but my schedule’s almost always packed.”</p><p>Arin scoffs. “That’s because you let it be, you could take Mark, maybe for the weekends.”</p><p>He keeps it at the back of his mind, as they finally catch up. He’d met the other when he’d first moved here, Mark just turning two, and she had taken a liking to him almost immediately. Arin’s work didn’t particularly need her presence at the office, so she’d helped him out a lot in the beginning, from babysitting not only his son but him too.</p><p>“Oh, I saw that you’re going on some tv show?” she asks, grabbing the last piece of chocolate before he could get to it. Taeyong pouts, but she remains unaffected. <em>Heartless.</em></p><p>“Yeah,” he grumbles, “Ms. Kim promised she’d somehow get me a chance to go Paris if I do. You know Jung Jaehyun?” she nods, “well, basically she’s hoping we could get closer or he considers making me model for his personal photo books.”</p><p>Arin whistles, “that’s—wow, so you have to seduce him, huh?”</p><p>“What? <em>No</em>, the fuck?” he splutters, and his eyes widen, looking around for Mark. Thankfully, the boy’s too absorbed in his cartoon to notice. “What—where—<em>how </em>did you even reach that conclusion?”</p><p>She lifts an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. It is not, and Taeyong blankly stares at her.</p><p>“<em>Taeyong</em>,” she sighs, “did you not even search him up? The only person he’s let model in his personal photo book was his parents—and that was for anniversary shot—and I think maybe few of his best friends. Jaehyun almost <em>never </em>includes anyone else besides people super close to him in those, it’s like—it’s like the one thing that’s entirely made by him, you know?”</p><p>He, most definitely, did not know. <em>Well</em>. “We…we <em>might</em> become friends, you know,” Taeyong says, though his voice loses his usual confidence. She and he both knew very well, how much Taeyong liked making ‘friends’. Half the people he knew were acquaintances, the other <em>close </em>acquaintances, and then there lied the few in between who he’d call his actual friends.</p><p>Maybe that one netizen was right. Taeyong probably had three friends.</p><p>Arin sighs.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>After making sure Mark’s tucked in and deep in sleep, he leaves to settle in the living room, unlocking his phone and going through his social media. After a quick search, he finds Jaehyun’s account, Arin’s words from earlier echoing back to him.</p><p>And after a short scroll, he finds himself…<em>impressed.</em> Jaehyun’s got an eye for this, his feed mainly nature or some scenic location, mixed with an occasional solo shot in between. As far as he knows, his official twitter accounts are mainly reserved for his own selfies. It’s a pretty consistent style, and soon, he finds himself scrolling lower and lower, until he stumbles on an extremely old one, dated back to two years ago.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>_jeongjaehyun</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>Liked by <strong>johnnyjsuh</strong>,<strong> tenlee_1001</strong>, and <strong>788,689 others</strong></p><p><strong>_jeongjaehyun </strong>as promised, a face reveal for 400k! still feels like im dreaming, to see that number when I open my account. thank you so much for the support!</p><p>And now, Jaehyun’s account boosted a pretty 1.9 million. It…he’s not sure why, but something inside of him turns a little softer, after looking at the post. To see where Jaehyun had started from, all those years ago. As someone who’d been recruited into an agency from mere luck, he knew just how hard it was, to get your name out there, to establish yourself without anyone helping out.</p><p>Without thinking much of it, Taeyong double taps the picture, a small smile playing at his lips.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it took me like sixteen hours just to add the damn image until i realised what i was doing wrong lmao anyWAYS</p><p>thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos/comment!!</p><p>(also just in case you cant see the pic: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/45/49/86/4549862c28e3c58cb3dc6cb43c82acd9.jpg tada!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>[INFO] Model Lee Taeyong likes an old picture of Jung Jaehyun. Fans hoping to see the start of a new friendship after confirmed cast list.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Jaehyun was not okay.</p><p>“Hey,” Johnny starts, and he’s already screaming.</p><p>He can hear the other swear, shutting the door close as he lets himself in the apartment. Jaehyun’s dog runs up to meet him, always happy to see Johnny.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“So, you and Taeyong, huh.”</p><p>“We’ve barely talked,” he mutters, now a little low after he was done with whatever hell he was doing. Jaehyun didn’t understand most of what he did himself sometimes. Johnny hums, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through his socials, occasionally reading a tweet or two out loud.</p><p>“Then why was he stalking your insta?”</p><p>“It must’ve come up on his feed or something,” he scratches Lily, the golden retriever a big ball of fluff next to him on the sofa. The latter just sighs, pouring himself a coffee. The house feels more fuller, with him here. He’d booked the apartment on a whim, when he’d first started getting his paychecks, and was only a few installments away from making it his. It was big, and he hoped a good investment too; the area was still under development. If the show worked out well…</p><p>“Does he know?”</p><p>“Who? Taeyong?” At Johnny’s nod, he shakes his head. “I’ve only messaged him once, you know, the typical guide me well stuff. He left the meeting early that day too—“</p><p>“And arrived late the other day. Got it, no progress.”</p><p>Jaehyun glares at him. <em>Progress.</em> Johnny’s talking about <em>progress</em>, as if Jaehyun’s ever stood a chance. Taeyong is beautiful, even more so in person, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the other all day after the meeting at his agency. There was something commanding—elegant, even—in the way he held himself. The way he walked, the little movements of his arms, the slight sweep of his gaze as he laughed at something Seulgi had said during their meeting with the producers and cast. Jaehyun had nearly combusted on the spot, when he’d met the other’s eyes, so glaringly bright that it could ignite his entire body in flames.</p><p>But he was different, when he’s seen him in the bathroom. Face white with nervousness. Jaehyun had wanted to say so many things, to do so many things, but all he’d done was ask a lame ‘you okay?’ and had left. He couldn’t help but feel he had intruded on something very private, the guilt still gnawing him.</p><p>Jaehyun was <em>so </em>screwed.</p><p>“What would I even say,” he laments, “he’s a model; he’s probably been complimented a million times on everything already.”</p><p>“Well,” Johnny interrupts, “not <em>everything.</em>” When Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, the other shakes his head, acting pretentious and all-knowing just because he knew of his little celebrity crush. He wondered when the day would come, when he could smack that attitude right back in the other’s face.</p><p>“Didn’t you see him talking to the producer before he left? I don’t think he’s going to get a segment revealing his home.”</p><p>“I mean, that’s literally his privacy. If I wasn’t piss poor—“</p><p>“—Jae, you are nowhere <em>near </em>piss poor—“</p><p>“—then I’d probably say no, too. I get enough stalkers as it is.”</p><p>At the mention of stalkers, Johnny’s face falls. “Again?”</p><p>Jaehyun merely takes a swig of the coffee, feeling it burn as it slides down his throat. Two girls, waiting outside his door, and he had to call his manager and the building’s security to deal with them, or else his location would spread like wildfire. All he wanted to do was photograph, make enough money for his family and dog, and then die. Was that so hard to ask?</p><p>(A small part of him whispers a certain model’s name, but he ignores it. For his own sake.)</p><p>“Anyway,” Johnny continues, picking off where they started before the mood grew somber, “I’m just saying, there’s certain things, that only a few have access too.”</p><p>He frowned, “if you’re talking about hooking up—”</p><p>“Jaehyun, I will literally hit you square in the fucking jaw if you don’t stop interrupting me.”</p><p>He falls silent, Lily snuggling closer.</p><p>The other clears his throat. “<em>Anyways,</em> as I was saying, there’s something only a few get to know, and that’s the heart.” Jaehyun groans. That was <em>so </em>cliché.</p><p>Johnny, however, powers on, unperturbed. “Take it as an opportunity, at the very least once this is over you’ll have him as an acquaintance, and at the most…” he wiggles his eyebrows.</p><p>Jaehyun’s tempted to throw his coffee at him.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Taeyong reads the headline. Then reads it again.</p><p><em>Seriously? </em>All he did was like a damn post, and now people were waxing poetic about him and Jaehyun. It manages to sour his mood, especially when Jihye tells him he did a good job in following Ms. Kim’s plan. What plan, he’s not sure, but he did his part apparently.</p><p>“It’s just a photo,” he grumbles, as he sees a new fan account for him and Jaehyun open up with thousands of followers already, “what the fuck.”</p><p>“Language,” Jihye hisses, and the stylist nearly suffocates him with how tight she binds his shirt. She fervently apologises, after Jihye steps back to let the poor woman do her work.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he assures, a smile in place, and then turns to give his manager a glare. The other gestures at the rest of the room. Taeyong gets it, he really does, but he doesn’t want to at the same time. He was an adult, at the bare minimum he should be allowed to occasionally curse, instead of worrying about a reporter writing about how foul mouthed he was.</p><p>Two hours and many photos later, his phone is finally back in his hands. There’s a few texts from Arin, that she’s picked Mark up from nursery and he’s hanging out with her at her apartment, and then a few more from family and work.</p><p>And then, there’s one from Jaehyun.</p><p>He hesitates. Sure, maybe liking one of the few pictures in Jaehyun’s feed that was pointedly <em>not </em>work related was suspicious to some but…he had only meant it as an encouragement, of sorts. Taeyong wonders, if he knows how his agency merely treats him as a golden ticket, and nothing more. Wonders, if he would care to even interact with him, if he did.</p><p>“<em>Taeyong,</em>” he hears Jihye warn, and he pulls his hands away. He hadn’t realized he’d started nibbling them again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>hey</em>
</p><p>
  <em>uh, I don’t exactly know how to phrase this haha but</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope you’re not too disturbed by all the articles</em>
</p><p>
  <em>for liking that picture, even accidentally</em>
</p><p>
  <em>or by my fans for that matter, I know they can get…a little aggressive</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong is well aware. He is no stranger to the rancid words people spit online in hopes that it would somehow work out in their favour and their favourite celebrity would still remain theirs. But he’s also managed to avoid most of them; none something new.</p><p>
  <strong>Taeyong</strong>
  <strong>٩</strong>
  <strong>(</strong>
  <strong>◕</strong>
  <strong>‿</strong>
  <strong>◕</strong>
  <strong>｡</strong>
  <strong>)</strong>
  <strong>۶</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>hey, dw too much about it. im fine :)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>His fingers hover over the keyboard, as he thinks of the pictures, thinks of the first one Jaehyun had ever posted; a pretty red rose in a glass jug filled with water. It was clearly shot from a phone, but it still managed to look mystical; a little unreal in the morning sun.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Also, it wasn’t an accident</em>
</p><p>
  <em>your pictures are very beautiful, Jaehyun</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And he shuts all his chat notifications off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaehyun reads it. And reads it again. And then promptly falls face first into his pillows, Lily hopping next to him with great excitement.</p><p>
  <em>your pictures are very beautiful, Jaehyun</em>
</p><p>Holy-fucking-shit, <em>the </em>Lee Taeyong, the same one he was about to be on a show with, the same one who he’d seen in person only a few days ago, the same one who Jaehyun had fallen for so many years ago—<em>that Lee Taeyong liked his pictures?!</em></p><p>“Lily,” he tells the golden ball of fur. She woofs. Jaehyun holds her face in his hands, giving her nice and gentle rubs as he tells her: “he likes my pictures? Did you hear that, baby? Like, he thinks they’re beautiful. Do you know what beautiful means, baby? I bet you don’t but it’s okay,” he ruffles her some more and she licks his face. Everything was wonderful, even if he didn’t like slobber on the bed. But it was all still wonderful.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Mark,” he huffs, struggling with his bag. The boy was running around the store, touching things that made his anxiety skyrocket, in case he managed to drop or break something. The cashier laughs, and when he looks up, he gives her an exasperated smile.</p><p>“Here,” he says, handing over the card. While she’s running it through, Taeyong manages to grab Mark’s wrist, holding him in place even as he whines. His feet were already killing him with the extra practice Ms. Kim had made them go through, and now with Mark’s insistence to go outside, his suffering continues. He’s managed to run off twice, and they’ve only gone through one store.</p><p>“Goodbye!” The girl shouts, just as they leave, and Mark beams up at her, hair falling in his eyes. He looks ridiculous; front teeth still missing.</p><p>“Bye-bye!”</p><p>Taeyong feels his own heart bubble with fondness. It was all worth it. It always was.</p><p>*</p><p>“And then-and then! Hina said she hates goo, but like she ate goo, and then teacher Kim—“</p><p>Taeyong nods along, half-listening as he goes through the food section. If he was here, he might as well buy some groceries. Mark’s swinging his legs in the cart, and he makes sure to insert the occasional ‘really?’ every now and then. The oats are absolutely horrendous though, so he moves on from that section pretty soon. The boy gets a little too excited though, when they pass by shelves lining coffee packets, and he has half a mind to stop those little hands until—</p><p><em>“Mark!” </em>he scolds, the packets falling on the floor and ripping open. <em>Goodness. </em>There’s a worker nearby who stares at the mess, and he feels his face burn in shame, hurrying to push the other packets threatening to follow suite. When he turns to look at his son, Mark’s eyes are wide, lips quivering. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>“Excuse me sir,” another worker pokes him, so he could get out of her way as she cleaned the mess. He could just pay for the packet, he knows, but it doesn’t help ease the guilt he feels in increasing their workload.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” he utters, and Mark’s starting to cry, so he pulls him out the cart and into his arms, and goodness, people were watching. He pulls his mask back up, and Taeyong knows he looks like a train wreck. He was already so tired; he hadn’t put the effort in appearances—planning on just a simple hangout at the mall and then maybe going to the park for a little while. His sweater’s old and faded, and he’d worn casual sweatpants. His hair’s all unkempt, and a manager is most probably approaching him.</p><p>“Baby,” he whispers in Mark’s hair, trying to calm him down. It’s a weird juggle, trying to balance Mark against his chest while simultaneously opening his bag to check for his wallet. “I’m so sorry,” he starts again, and Mark’s now full on sobbing, and he really shouldn’t have come today—</p><p>“Sir,” the manager says, not unkindly, “sir, we’ll add it to the rest of your bill up at the front. It’s alright, it happens.”</p><p>Taeyong could drop down on his knees and cry. “Thank you—I’m really sorry once again, I should have paid more attention—“</p><p>“No, no, I have kids of my own I completely understand.” The man laughs, and the girl finally gets up after sweeping it all up, taking the bag with her. There’s some more talking, until he can finally breathe a sigh of relief, and rub his hands against Mark’s back.</p><p>“M’sorry,” Mark mumbles against his shirt, and he feels his heart shatter.</p><p>“No, It’s oka—“ he catches himself, before continuing, “well, it’s not okay, love, but now it’s all done, okay? You made a mistake and said sorry; that’s enough, hmm?”</p><p>He’s not really sure if Mark’s paying attention to his words anymore, but he props him a little higher, so his face is tucked on his shoulder. His hand’s loosely gripping his other one, and Taeyong pushes the cart in the direction of the counters, done with shopping. He could just order the rest or something, but all he wanted to do was go home and <em>sleep.</em></p><p>“—right?” he hears someone whisper, as he passes by, “if only the mom was here. You know men; they’re not cut out for this stuff. No wonder he looked so panicked, clearly inexperienced—“</p><p><em>Don’t. </em>He tunes it all out, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. His face is still burning, but he keeps his voice gentle, to Mark, to the cashier, and to the person who kindly keeps the elevator doors open for him. Taeyong feels someone prod at his heart, prod against his pride. They leave little scratches behind, opening wounds that he’s tried healing again and again and again.</p><p>Mark’s asleep, by the time he orders a cab. The ride back home is silent, and his arms are starting to hurt, with one holding his baby, and the other carrying all the groceries. His body’s already sore from the day before, legs especially killing him as he toes off his shoes and makes it inside. He’d had a busy couple of days for a new collection, standing for hours on end, and getting in extra practice before the runway season started again.</p><p>Taeyong sighs.</p><p>He gently tucks Mark in bed, leaving the door open and carrying the baby monitor over to the kitchen. He could just go to sleep now, but he’s not really sure if he’ll have the energy (or even the will, honestly) then to stock everything up in the cabinets and fridge. And then, there’s the living room, still littered with toys that he cleans up and places back in the basket. And then, there’s the laundry which he shoves in the washing machine and leans against to catch a small break.</p><p>Because then, is washing up.</p><p>Everything feels off, after what happened. The water too cold or too hot no matter how much he adjusts it, everything about him a little too much or too less. He needs to hit the gym again, for a little while, he realises, and he dislikes the way his skin looks as he’s washing his face. Taeyong feels misshapen, something that had carried over from his early high school days and spilt into his career. People never really did hold back, when it came to tearing others down.</p><p>And it’s all just so <em>tiring, </em>when he sits on the bed. Everything feels tiring, nowadays, more so than it had before. He’d carved a shield around himself, all those years back, when his parents had allowed him to audition, allowed him to take it up part-time when offers starting coming themselves. He definitely has it better than a lot others; he knows. Got training, when he finally joined the agency. A lot of them had been kind, but some had also been not.</p><p>And it’s times like these, when everything is too quiet, does it come back. Taeyong doesn’t like getting like this, and while he’s always tried to keep it under control, sometimes he just can’t help but spiral. Spiral down, down, down. The negative comments, the things he’s seen others do just to get a chance. He can still feel the stings on his cheek, even after all these years, even when that director had long been fired and blacklisted.</p><p>It’s all so much, and Taeyong is always so alone, during night like these. The words from earlier cut and cut and cut deeper in his heart, even when he’s heard worse. Because a part of him always knows, that he’s not enough. That he was never enough, that he would never be, for Mark, for himself, for his parents, for his family, for anyone.</p><p>He just wasn’t cut out for it.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Whatcha’ doing?”</p><p>Johnny screams.</p><p> Jaehyun rolls his eyes, shoving the other. Well, that would be his mini-payback for being so insufferable the other day. He jumps on the sofa, letting it cushion his fall, as he makes himself home in Johnny’s apartment.</p><p>“What if I had someone over, asshole,” Johnny mutters, after finally catching up with the reality of the situation. Truly, if you were so adverse to people coming over on a whim, maybe never offer others spare keys to your home. (‘<em>Emergency, </em>Jaehyun, do you not understand the meaning of ‘for emergencies only’?) He leans back, placing his feet on the coffee table, Johnny immediately pushing them off. The other has nice taste, walls cream with a brown feature wall home to a display and some paintings on the others. There’s a shelf with albums, books, a few cassettes, and photo frames. It’s all earthy and green, and he’s tempted to steal a few ideas for his own place.</p><p>“I already know what you’re thinking and my answer is ‘no’,” Johnny pipes up from beside him. This is exactly why they were friends. “I bet you’re trying to steal my aesthetic, you thief.”</p><p>“Not my fault I don’t have a degree in interior design.”</p><p>“You say that as if <em>I </em>do.”</p><p>“You have <em>friends</em>, and <em>connections</em>, who would give you any advice you need,” Jaehyun retorts, and this time, Johnny doesn’t have a comeback. It’s silent, before the other mutters a ‘fair enough’.</p><p>“I could help, I guess,” Johnny offers, and Jaehyun immediately says ‘thanks’, knowing all too well he has like five seconds before the other goes back on his offer.</p><p>They fall into a comfortable silence again, after that. He takes off his jacket, stretching before making them both some coffee.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>[INFO] Jung Jaehyun uploads dreamy pictures on instagram, sending fans in frenzy with latest selfie! Click here for more!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes, scrolling past.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>[HOT] LIVTV’s new show rumoured to be called ‘Life on the Inside’. MCs Johnny Suh and Moon Taeil talk more on the effects of fame and how celebs ‘were just normal people too’. Find full interview here:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” He says, passing the mug to the other as he joined him, “the name’s been decided?”</p><p>Johnny peaks over his shoulder, and hums. “They had like a meeting discussing it, since the other one was super bland. You gonna’ read that?”</p><p>“I mean,” Jaehyun starts, “or you could just, <em>tell me,</em> what you said.”</p><p>Johnny hums again. Why does he hum so much? Then again, Jaehyun wasn’t very different either. So he waits, scrolling through his feed. There’s some news about one of the rookies on the show—Sooyoung—getting a stage name. ‘Joy’, and Jaehyun thinks it fits the girl’s bubbly demeanour perfectly. She was super sweet the entire meeting too, confident but not too much. He’s still learning the dynamics of all of this; suddenly exploding overnight didn’t really equip him with the tools to walk through the industry. Despite all their banter and teasing, Jaehyun genuinely appreciates Johnny even more during times like these, knowing he had <em>someone </em>to rely one.</p><p>“It was just,” Johnny suddenly starts, breaking him out from his head, “you know Moon Taeil?”</p><p>“Isn’t he like a psychologist, or something?”</p><p>“Yeah, he actually specialises in children—appeared on a few shows too—but he also handles adult cases time to time. He’s super funny too, perfect for variety, I think you’d like him—but, anyways, it wasn’t a long interview, just something they asked in the waiting room—‘</p><p>“The waiting room?”</p><p>Johnny closes his eyes, heaving a long-suffering sigh. “If you could just, <em>not </em>interrupt, then I’d have probably told you that we’ve started filming some of the bits for the pilot.”</p><p><em>Oh. </em>“And our shooing starts in two weeks.”</p><p>“They’ll come earlier though; they need to set up cameras and work out the angles and everything. Where was I?” He squints, “oh right. So they just asked us the concept of the show, and I kept it pretty simple, we’re normal people too, in that way that we’re humans and hurt and feel different things just like everybody else.”</p><p>“But Taeil said something else?”</p><p>Johnny’s quiet for a moment. “Not…necessarily. But, it got me thinking, you know. He mentioned how to a lot of people, we seem to be in such good positions—which is true, I mean, money talks in today’s world—but also how fickle it is. It’s all about rep, connections, power, and there are times where we feel we should’ve just lived normal lives instead.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s doesn’t interrupt, as the other continues, “and he mentioned something about sacrifices, the usual stuff, but he also said the way people tended to just…lose who they were.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>The other fidgets a little with his phone, eyes gazing at nothing. “When you’re so busy trying to please the world, to be a version of yourself that fits in to what people want, what people expect, where does the real you go? Where does the you that you want for yourself escape to? When you spend so much time building someone in front of the cameras, for everyone else, who do you become?”</p><p><em>Who do you become? </em>Jaehyun…he’s not sure. He knows <em>he </em>hasn’t changed much; only been a while since he’s started truly appearing on screens, truly thinking over what to say, what to do, how to act, etc. But with the way Johnny was speaking…</p><p>“Johnny?” He prods. A few seconds then: “Yeah, still here, don’t worry.” It makes him smile.</p><p>“It hit a spot, huh?”</p><p>“Kinda?” He sits up, downing the coffee. When he looks at Jaehyun again, he’s not really sure what to make of the other’s expression. “Taeil said that’s the number one thing most of them say, when they come to him. ‘I don’t know who I am anymore’. It’s really lonely here, you know, I’m not surprised so many get lost. You don’t know who you can and can’t trust sometimes—it’s hard, to find good people.”</p><p>Jaehyun lets the words sink in. He feels…childish? Was that the word? He’s not really sure. Of course he knows what Johnny’s talking about; it’s all over the news, every other while there was news about companies exploiting their employees, artists, lawsuits taking place, and so much more. He reads some of the fans’ concerns about him too, sometimes, and it warms him a little, that people who hardly knew him at all worried. But he’d gotten lucky, with his agency, some of the sweetest people he’d met. They were a small studio, but they had his best interest a heart. At least, he hopes.</p><p>“Don’t stress too much,” Johnny eventually says, “at least you have me.” The other throws a wink, nudging him. Jaehyun laughs.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says back, feeling lighter, “at least I have you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you so much ^^</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m really glad to hear that</em>
</p><p>
  <em>you honestly don’t know how big of a compliment that is, coming from you ^^</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>my assignments have been kicking my ass and i hate life :D but hopefully the chapter turned out well, I haven't been getting time to work on it as much even tho im super excited to write more ;;-;; i listened to lee hi's breathe followed by not alone and thus inspiration finally hit lmao</p><p> hopefully ya'll like it!! Leave a kudos/comment if you did!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>taeoxo_</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Liked by <strong>yuu_taa_1026</strong>, <strong>arinkim, _jeongjaehyun </strong>and <strong>997,679 </strong>others</p><p><strong>taeoxo_ </strong>born from stars</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong groans, pulling himself up from his half curled position on the covers. The room is still shrouded in darkness, but little spills of sunlight on the floor remind him that morning had come. His face feels incredibly puffy, and it’s only after many moments of staring into the nothingness of the curtains do last night’s events come back to him.</p><p>He turns back to see Mark soundly asleep, little fingers clutching on the pillow. That, at least, manages to calm his heart down. Taeyong presses a kiss against the boy’s forehead, before finally pushing himself off the bed. It’s a little too quiet, only the occasional sound of cars whishing by entering the apartment. He’s never really found out, if he liked it, or if he’d just gotten accustomed to it.</p><p>He can’t believe he cried himself to sleep, <em>again.</em> Taeyong splashes water on his face, the cold stinging and pricking him more awake. He feels a sense of…<em>nothingness</em>, going through his morning routine. His chest does feel lighter, and maybe, it didn’t have to be a bad thing. All of the pent up frustration and exhaustion from weeks on end had caught up to him, that’s all.</p><p>(He pointedly ignores the fresh marks on his palms.)</p><p>After finally settling in the living room, he swipes his phone open. A few texts from Jihye about his schedule, some from Yuta about being late, and then, sitting at the top of the list, Jaehyun.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>
  <strong>Taeyong</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>ofcourse</em>
  <em>, don’t thank me for stating the obvious ^^</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and oh? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>what exactly is that supposed to mean lol</em>
</p><p>Maybe he shouldn’t have said ‘lol’? What if that ruined the ‘plan’ Ms. Kim talked about (Even though no one has told him <em>anything </em>about the mysterious ‘plan’ yet)?</p><p>Should he even be interacting with Jaehyun? But what’s the worst that could happen. Jaehyun was…well, Taeyong hadn’t really given much thought to the other in the past few days, too busy and caught up with his own gig, but…he’s kinda’ cute. The naïve type, like most rookies were; a little lost, a little too eager to please. Just like how he found Sooyoung cute. Or any other new kid in their company.</p><p>He’s about to lock his phone when the words ‘online’ appear under the other’s name. In a second, all his messages go from sent to read. He really should get started on breakfast—<em>extra, </em>than usual, considering Yuta only ever loved him for his cooking—but, well, he was curious.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>asdfghjk no no, I still have a long way to go</em>
</p><p>
  <em>it’s nothing bad I promise!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>just uh</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve been a small fan of yours</em>
</p><p>
  <em>for a while now</em>
</p><p>
  <em>so it’s like</em>
</p><p>
  <em>monumental</em>
</p><p>
  <em>that you saw my work and LIKED it like its just surreal </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong stares at the words. And ignores the same funny feeling in his chest. He had fans; of course he knew that, when his follow count boosted millions but…it was different? To interact with someone in the same sphere as him and find out they admired him. The first thing that pops up in his head is ‘<em>holy shit Ms. Kim is going to be over the moon’ </em>closely followed by ‘<em>holy shit I </em>can’t <em>tell her’.</em></p><p>“Coming!” he shouts instead, as the incessant ringing of the doorbell begins.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Jaehyun do you…” Johnny starts, finally looking up from his computer. He’d been editing a few photos, and hadn’t reacted to a single thing he’d said yet. Jaehyun was getting a little impatient. “Do you like—not have other friends?”</p><p>Well, he wasn’t expecting <em>that.</em></p><p>“No I do, I just—“ he thinks of what exactly to say, pulling an empty chair from the mess of the room and bringing it in front of the other’s desk, “I just—not the type I can really tell about this stuff. Or…<em>trust</em>, about it.”</p><p>That does the trick: Johnny heaving a sigh as if it pained him to take out his headphones and put his sixteenth My Chemical Romance song on hold. Goodness, what was the <em>appeal? </em>Each to their own, he guesses. “So basically,” he starts again, “I messaged him last night, and then—“</p><p>“He replied this morning, and then you messaged him some dumb fanboy shit back, and now he <em>hasn’t </em>replied, so you’re scared you messed up,” Johnny finishes. His face is blank, so utterly blank when Jaehyun is here on the verge of a panic attack. What if he wasn’t supposed to send a key smash? Would Taeyong think he was a disrespectful prick? Maybe he should’ve been super formal? Added a ‘sir’?</p><p>“Jae,” Johnny interrupts his internal meltdown, “<em>please.</em> I’m pretty sure he’s not like that—he has a reputation of being super nice to almost anyone, something probably came up. It’s not like he’s just sitting at home and lazing around.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Taeyong, <em>get up,</em>” Yuta whines, “you can’t just sit here and laze around.”</p><p>Taeyong pouts. It was his afternoon <em>off </em>in a long while, he could do whatever he wanted. The night had been booked to some meeting again, and with the way Jihye evaded all questions, it could only mean two things: Jaehyun, or the show. He’s more inclined to guess it’s the latter; the date of filming creeping slowly akin to unwanted slime—coating him with anxiety each passing day. Truly, horrid.</p><p>“Mark’s <em>asleep</em>, and I made you food!” He throws his hands in the air for extra emphasis. The sofa felt so nice, under his sore and sad body. Yuta, on the other hand, had his face pinched in a weird mixture of annoyance, detachment, and exasperation. <em>Give him food</em>, his brain whispers, <em>he needs food.</em></p><p>Reluctantly, he gets up, and just. Sits. Taking in everything. He can hear Yuta murmur something under his breath, before he comes around the sofa to sit next to him. His body’s radiating heat, and Taeyong leans his head against the other’s shoulder, feeling not good.</p><p>“Hands,” Yuta asks, voice soft. There’s no demand, or urgency, and he knows he can just say <em>no</em>, and spare himself the shame. He <em>knows</em>, but he shows them to the other anyway, and ignores the guilt mixing with disappointment in his chest as Yuta carefully examines them. He gets up, suddenly, and Taeyong waits for him, before he settles next to him with a first-aid kit and some cream.</p><p>“You really don’t have to—“</p><p>“Yong,” Yuta interrupts, this time without looking up as he uncaps the cream, “I know, but let me.”</p><p>And so that’s what he does, in the few minutes that trickle between them as the other wraps his hands up. He just <em>knows</em> he’s going to get an earful from Jihye later on, but he’d made sure to not leave any marks on the front of his hands—his palms the one one affected.</p><p>“Again?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Taeyong sighs, “yesterday was—bad.”</p><p>He finally pushes himself off, Yuta following as they make their way to the kitchen. Blue painted cabinets make him feel a certain way, and he’s tempted to scratch at his hands again. Instead, he gives his friend food and the man lights up as if he didn’t just devour McDonald’s entire breakfast menu.</p><p>“Wanna’ talk about it?” Yuta asks through a mouthful and…he winces, before the other gets the memo and shuts his mouth close. Taeyong thinks it over. There wasn’t really anything to talk about, per se; he’d just been overwhelmed, and too weak to handle it. He’d been doing well for a month, until everything came striking back because of <em>one </em>little incident, because of just a <em>few </em>little words.</p><p>Gosh, the more he thinks about it, the more pathetic he feels.</p><p>“Not really,” he settles for, and Yuta doesn’t push. He never does. And Taeyong has and will be eternally grateful for that. The rest of the afternoon is spent in relative silence, with the other finishing up his work on his laptop, and Taeyong catching up on a drama. Alone, it felt like the house would just swallow him whole, the silence suffocating him, the empty rooms trying to drown him.</p><p>It’s always better, when someone else is there.</p><p>“Do I pick up Mark today?” Yuta asks, as he types away something else.</p><p>“Yeah, it would be better if you could,” he says, and his chest aches, once the words leave his mouth. “I’ll be leaving in an hour or two.” The other hums. Taeyong lies back down against the sofa cushions. Mark, his boy, running out and beaming like all was good in the world, that nothing could be better. Were his parents right, all those years ago? Maybe….</p><p>There’s a ping from his phone, that interrupts his running thoughts. <em>Jaehyun. </em>Oh. OH. He hadn’t replied to the poor guy!</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry if that offended you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should have been more formal</em>
</p><p>It takes him a second to process what he means by that. Another message follows up.</p><p>
  <em>sunbaenim ;-;</em>
</p><p>He snorts.</p><p>
  <strong>Taeyong</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>no no no</em>
</p><p>
  <em>also please no need for formality!! it makes me feel weird</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and maybe a little too old &gt;:(</em>
</p><p>
  <em>something came up so couldn’t reply</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m…flattered? to hear that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>thank you, it was a pleasant surprise, something im not really used to</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and honestly, it’s not as big of a deal as you make it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>you have plenty of admirers, just think of me as another one.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>:O</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Jaehyun?”</p><p>Taeyong jumps, nearly dropping his phone. Yuta gives him an unimpressed glance, before looking at the screen. “You’re talking with the photographer dude? He’s in your show now too, right?”</p><p>“Uh,” he starts, rather intelligently, “yeah.” Beautiful; an exquisite answer. He mentally face palms. “He just texted one day, so I replied, and well…it’s just been a little back and forth occasionally to be honest, nothing too much.”</p><p>Yuta hums. “He’s hot,” he tells him, and Taeyong cannot <em>fathom </em>why, “I’ve seen him in person. Nice, tall and handsome.”</p><p>There is a moment of silence. “Yuta,” he starts slowly, “you do know, <em>I </em>met him in person too?”</p><p>Yuta blinks. Then: “Oh, yeah, totally forgot. Anyway, you should go for it.”</p><p>“Go for what?”</p><p>The other gestures vaguely at his phone. It does not help erase the confusion. Yuta then sighs, and murmurs a ‘hopeless’ before going back to his work. Why were all his friends so strange? Just as he’s about to check the chat again, the screen goes blank before revealing none other than his manager’s name. Taeyong groans. Why couldn’t he have just <em>one </em>moment of peace?</p><p>*</p><p>Sooyoung—or Joy, as they’d all taken to calling her now—shifts a little closer to him. Taeyong gives her what he hopes is a comforting smile. It’s the least he can do, with how weird the director was being.</p><p>They’d arrived a few hours earlier, getting their hair and makeup done before being whisked away to the venue. It was one of the more private ones, for their VIP audiences, secluded in a penthouse downtown. While they’d met some of them—all of them incredibly polite, one even giving Taeyong a bouquet as she whispered she was a fan—the director who was overseeing the event was…strange.</p><p>It started with a few harmless comments about them; they looked good, they had well-maintained physiques, a few compliments like how Taeyong’s eyes were extremely big and pretty, and while they were words he was used to hearing, the tone of voice had pricked the back of his mind constantly. He’d even glanced at Jihye a few times, the woman shrugging it off.</p><p>“Joy!”</p><p>Sooyoung hurries off, getting changed into another outfit. Two more models walk out into the living room, before his turn finally comes. It’s always odd, walking for private shows, the music is still there, but the chatter of the people usually mutes it out. Discussing the clothes, discussing the prices and brands and makes, and more than times than not, discussing <em>him.</em></p><p>He glazes his expression over, one step at a time, hand in his pockets as he walks out. Shorts, coupled with a shirt and oversized jacket, all in colours suited for the upcoming autumn season. There’s a chain that rests against his neck, and a few earrings lining his ear as he comes closer, pausing. They take their time—a few seconds—to observe the outfit, before he turns, and makes his way back in.</p><p>There’s barely any time to speak, as he’s ushered out of it into another outfit, and the pattern repeats for good twenty minutes or something, until they’re finally done. He sits on one of the chairs near the back, gulping down water, as the director and few others go out to speak with them.</p><p>“Hey,” Sooyoung starts, coming next to him, he looks up, “are they going to be buying all of it?”</p><p>“Oh, no, just what they like best,” he pats the empty seat next to him, “sometimes, if we’re really lucky, they end up ordering twenty to thirty pieces of the same outfits—even the accessories. They pay a <em>lot </em>for the private shows.”</p><p>Sooyoung’s eyes widen in surprise. “Twenty to <em>thirty? </em>Even one of these could pay for all my tuition, why would <em>anyone </em>need that many—“</p><p>“Okay!”</p><p>They snap their attention to the front of the room. There’s smile stretched wide on the director’s face, unmoving even as he speaks as if someone’s sewn it in. “You’ll be pleased to know it was success! And by that I mean we’ve managed to sell almost thirteen of the twenty styles today!”</p><p>There’s a round of cheers, not too loud, but enough to keep the mood light. They start packing up after that, finally freed from the layers upon layers of makeup, resorting to something basic instead. Once he’s done, he checks through his phone to find a few messages from Yuta, and even some from Arin—she’d come over too, to check on Mark for a while. There’s a lot of crying emojis from his friend in response, citing how betrayed he felt that the woman didn’t trust him.</p><p><em>Home,</em> he thinks, and feels his heart warm over. Taeyong packs his bags, Jihye already long gone to the parking lot, making to leave. He clutches the bouquets close to him, remembering the girl’s shy smile and rosy cheeks. Just as he exits the room and steps out in the hallways, he smiles. It felt nice; to know people were cheering him on. He’s reminded once again of Jaehyun, and his cute messages earlier in the day.</p><p>“Woah, woah,” there’s a hand that pulls him back, as he opens the front doors. Taeyong turns to find the director, and feels his stomach churn. “Leaving? Already?”</p><p>“Oh,” he gives him a smile, voice apologetic and light, “I have a shoot early morning tomorrow, so it’s best I get back home soon.”</p><p>“Oh come <em>on</em>,” his grip tightens, and Taeyong’s eyes search the room for anyone paying close attention. None of them are, all far away and tucked into the living room. <em>Shit.</em> He should’ve brought someone along. He tries for a laugh, placing a hand on the man’s, and pushing it lightly, hoping he gets the memo.</p><p>He doesn’t.</p><p>“We need to celebrate, dear Taeyong! Have some dinner, all of us together, hmm?”</p><p>“I would love too, really, but I’m a very deep sleeper if I don’t get my hours so—“</p><p>“Nonsense!” He steps closer, and Taeyong feels his throat dry. Five years, and he still couldn’t help but think and think and think, the memories dripping in one by one. “Do you know that you’re the one who sold the most tonight? They’d ordered everything you wore, including your jewellery. Isn’t that amazing?”</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, and pushes down on the other’s hand until it finally breaks away. He internally heaves a sigh of relief, as he schools his expression, “it’s just my job, I’m glad to do it well.”</p><p>“Of course, of course,” he says, stepping back. His eyes rake over his form, growing contemplative. Should he just make a run for it? But he didn’t know if the other had connections—connections that could cancel his future offers, or even ones that could hit his reputation. After all, he was refusing a team dinner, and that too so severely.</p><p>“You’re worth a lot, you know that?” He suddenly says, “I wonder how much it would take, to have you all to myself.”</p><p>Taeyong feels his body turn rigid at the word. <em>Abort. Abort. Abort.</em> There’s alarm bells ringing incessantly in his ears, and the man’s face starts to melt and twist until it becomes someone else’s entirely, teeth too sharp and eyes too bright, and smile too weird, and he’s coming closer, he can <em>feel </em>the hand’s on him—</p><p>“Taeyong!”</p><p>It shatters.</p><p>The hands spring back, the colours turn normal, and the room isn’t holding him hostage. The director steps back, clearly surprised, and floodgates of relief open in his chest as Sooyoung bounds over, bag in hand with her hair free and flowing behind her.</p><p>“Sorry I took so long!” She says, and bows to the director when she approaches. The man just smiles awkwardly, nodding his head. “We have an early schedule tomorrow, so we’ll be taking your leave! Thank you for your hard work today!”</p><p>Taeyong gets pulled along with her, reaching the elevators. His skin is burning him alive, his chest tightening and tightening so his lungs can scream for more space, more <em>air.</em> When they get in, only the two of them, he lowers himself to the floor, willing to his heart to calm down.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispers, and when Sooyoung gives him a sad smile, he squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“Anytime.”</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The caption for taeyongs insta post is from dark clouds!! Check out his soundcloud &lt;33</p><p>Thank you for reading!! Please leave a kudos/comments if you liked it!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW://brief mention of a panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>taeoxo_</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Liked by <strong>arinkim</strong>, <strong>tenlee­_1001</strong>, <strong>johnnyjsuh </strong>and <strong>987,564 </strong>others</p><p><strong>taeoxo_ </strong> “i restore myself, when I am alone” </p><p>-marilyn monroe</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun squints.</p><p>“Johnny,” he says, confusion lacing his tone, “this is—this is a <em>school.</em>”</p><p>The man in question hums, as he retrieves the equipment from the back of his car. He’d tagged along when Johnny had said his assistant had cancelled last minute. With just a location of a park, he had parked his car and walked till he found the other near the looming building. Not too far off, he could spot a kindergarten, the grounds empty. Classes must still be going on.</p><p>“Yes, I’m well aware,” Johnny huffs, as he struggles with a bag, and Jaehyun immediately breaks out of his head to help. Once they get it all out, Johnny stands straight, hands on his hips, sunglasses pushed up and staring at the empty roads. The sun is extremely bright, and he’s now even gladder he hadn’t listened to the tiny voice in his head pleading for him to wear shorts and a tank top. That would <em>not </em>bode well with students.</p><p>“They have a basketball match today, and after that an award ceremony. The whole week’s booked; sports week or something.”</p><p>Jaehyun sometimes forgets, that Johnny’s studio specialises in all types of events. Jaehyun’s more on the magazine side, nature and scenery his main specialty—at least, for <em>now,</em> he’s hoping to improve in other areas—so he hopes this ends up becoming a learning experience for him too. The principal greets them once they enter, leading them to the auditorium where they’re going to be setting it all up.</p><p>It’s much more work than he’d imagined; they have to keep into account not getting in the player’s ways, or the audiences line of vision too much. There’s also the placement of certain cameras at certain areas, in case the ball does hit them. It’s a good hour, until they can finally relax.</p><p>“Come with me tonight,” Johnny starts, rather ominously. He’s sprawled on the bench, hogging all the cold air coming directly from the air conditioners. Jaehyun nods, chugging water.</p><p>“I’m serious,” he says, sitting up, “I and a few others got invited—we’re free to bring along whomever. There’s going to be a lot of different people there.”</p><p>“You have your eyes on someone in particular?”</p><p>Johnny gives him a grin. “Art director from this entertainment agency. One of their groups is having a comeback, she was talking about their concept the last time we met, I think you’d be able to do a good job with their photo book.”</p><p>“Look at you, helping me out,” Jaehyun says, shoving him a little, but he can’t hide his smile. He feels a new type of excitement; one that’s mixed with nervousness at an attempt at something new.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mark!”</em></p><p>He son is deaf to his pleads, climbing on top of the sofa anyway. Taeyong barely makes it in time, before he topples over. He’s already on edge after the night before, and coping with his son’s boundless energy is not helping. Mark’s already broken a mug, nearly touched a hot pot when he’d sneaked into the kitchen, slipped twice while running and is now giggling after giving him a near heart attack.</p><p>“Love please,” he says, even as Mark is oblivious to his struggles, “you’ll get hurt if you do that.”</p><p>“I won’t!”</p><p>“You <em>will.</em>”</p><p>Taeyong places him back on the floor, feeling a flare of annoyance. “No sweets if you do that again.”</p><p>“But—“</p><p>“No buts. Apa’s really tired right now, okay?” Mark’s eyes widen in surprise at his tone. Taeyong’s usually one to give in, but he can’t keep doing that if the boy won’t learn. He’s already gotten a call last week from class that he wouldn’t listen to his teachers—which, alright, not like <em>he </em>did when he was a kid either—but there’s times he needs to draw the line.</p><p>He can hear Mark mumble something under his breath, but he doesn’t pay it mind. Mark walks over to his basket tucked near one of the sofas, emptying it out to play with his toys instead. Taeyong sighs, going back to the kitchen. The upcoming week is going to be incredibly hectic, and he was making enough food to last a week. God, he could barely even focus, slicing up some mushrooms and adding them in the pot. At least cooking helped ease some of his stress.</p><p>He had a full-blown panic attack after arriving home, Arin helping him breathe and sitting it through it until he finally came to his senses. He wasn’t going to, but after her insistence, he’d told Jihye, and his manager had gone absolute bat shit that he didn’t say anything earlier.</p><p>And what difference would it make? Shouldn’t he be able to defend himself, in situations like those? Break away in time? Look for an opening, <em>anything</em>, instead of letting his fears get the best of him? Poor Sooyoung had to come and save him, when <em>he </em>should be the one looking out for her instead.</p><p>It was Taeyong’s fault, in the end.</p><p>Just like it was, all those years back.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It’s a long <em>long</em> match, but the energy in the gym is contagious. Every goal, every miss—and even a few penalties—get him hooked, and it drives him even more to take pictures worthy of being displayed in the hallways, in their books, wherever it is, to capture the moment. Johnny’s much better at it than he is, having more experience, but it doesn’t deter him much. If anything, it makes his blood run a little hotter, competitiveness kicking in to be better.</p><p>(And if they both let out a cheer when the school’s team wins well, no one has to know that.)</p><p>They end up taking a group picture after the match is over, and he feels pride bloom in his chest when even a few players tell him they’re a fan, after watching his interview with a sports magazine a couple of months back. He’s feeling absolutely <em>electric,</em> when they cheer again, and he’s already looking forward for how the rest of the week’s going to pan out.</p><p> </p><p>“So, did you like it?”</p><p>“Like it?” Jaehyun laughs, folding the tripod and placing it in the car, “I <em>loved </em>it. It’s so much fun.”</p><p>“Tomorrow’s a volleyball match. But I’m looking forward to the one with the elementary and kindergarten students the most. That’s going to be so damn cute.”</p><p>Jaehyun chances a glance again, at the little building not too far off. It’s still empty, and he wonders if they’ve already gone home. He adored kids. Johnny follows his line of sight, coming to stand next to him. “It’s a day off for them, but they’ll be there tomorrow. Oh!” he says, visibly excited, “we could come early and set up everything, and then go see them when they arrive.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t that be—I don’t know, creepy?”</p><p>The other gives him a look. “Just dangle a camera around your neck and flash them a smile; the moms aren’t too concerned unless you’re taking their child anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun’s running late.</p><p>An occurrence that’s becoming more common than he likes. They had a meeting today, for the show, and he’d completely forgotten, lazing in bed until Johnny messaged him asking what he’d be wearing since the whole cast and staff would be present, maybe even a few reporters.</p><p>So after throwing the best black sweater he had, alongside a ripped pair of jeans, he grabs his coffee and takes all the shortcuts he can, parking the car and taking a deep breath in.</p><p>Sure, Jaehyun’s been on television. For a few interviews, and guest appearances on a couple variety shows where he’d been dilute amongst other rising or popular stars, from different fields, and from different worlds. But <em>this</em>? To have something completely focus on him, and him alone? It made his skin crawl. What if he messed up? All his hard work, all the time it took him to build whatever hobby he had into a profitable passion down the drain.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t. </em>
</p><p>Jaehyun steels his nerves, and books it to the meeting room.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong bites his nails.</p><p>His skin is crawling, clawing, straining against him; almost as if it’s trying to confine him into himself, scrambling away from the world and sticking to his bones. He pulls his sweater further down, covering his hands. Jihye had cancelled his shoot, to give him some time to get his head straight, but a meeting had been scheduled for the show. If all the stress from the previous weeks wasn’t enough, he had this to worry about today. He’d taken to wearing oversized clothing, feeling self-consciousness prick him over and over.</p><p>The room is empty, when he enters, one of the writers flipping through the pages. They greet each other, before he sits near the end of the table. He’s not in the mood for interacting with anyone. Taeyong open his phone to see Arin’s message, Mark smiling happily with his entire face covered in (he hopes) nutella. Despite his heart twisting itself in his chest, he smiles.</p><p>“Oh, you’ve already arrived?”</p><p>Taeyong looks up, finding Jaehyun’s smiling face in front of him. Why is it that every time he sees him, he always seems like he’s run a marathon? Jaehyun’s face is wind-flushed, as he greets him, pulling the chair opposite him to sit.</p><p>Taeyong feels his heart bump a little, remembering their little conversation.</p><p>“First one to arrive,” he answers, his voice more timid than he’d intended. Maybe Jaehyun catches on to it, but his responding smile is gentle.</p><p>“Ah, if only I left a few minutes earlier, could’ve beaten you to it.”</p><p>The conversation ends there, as Jaehyun goes to his phone and the clock ticks in the silence. A few more staff members come in, and he’s starting to wonder where the rest are. He scrolls through twitter, until he pauses at a headline that catches his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>[NEW] Jung Jaehyun and Johnny Suh spotted at a school in XYZ, check out their interactions with the basketball teams and students here!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Two things pop in his head. One, that: <em>oh</em>, <em>that’s where he went, </em>and two: <em>that looks oddly similar to the school next to Mark’s kindergarten.</em></p><p>“You uh,” Taeyong snaps his head up, at the sound of Jaehyun’s voice. His ears are tipped red, and he doesn’t know what to make of anything anymore. “Your interview with cosmopolitan…you support the ‘Home in One’ foundation?”</p><p>Taeyong blinks, until he remembers what Jaehyun’s talking about. “Oh,” he scratches his neck, and his mind wanders and wanders, a question for the other just on the tip of his tongue. He shoves it away, trying to think of a proper answer. “Yeah, I found out about it a couple of months again. It’s for families supported by single parents or guardians.”</p><p>“I read about it some more, after I saw you mention it,” Jaehyun leans forward, eagerness glinting in his eyes. His hair’s a little messy, probably from the wind, and it falls in nice soft curves on his forehead. “I didn’t know there were that many legal struggles involved, especially for the mothers.”</p><p>Taeyong hums, “not to mention the stigma; even asking for help makes you feel like you’re not good enough. Raising a child is costly—from their food, clothing, diapers, baby products, and then when they grow older, their admission fees, not to mention you have to make sure to keep some money aside for emergencies and some for their future. Little kids get hurt so easily,” he thinks back to a few days ago where Mark scraped his knees and he was late to an interview because the boy wouldn’t stop crying, “you can’t even divide time properly. Either get a babysitter—or anyone who’s willing to help—or cut down your hours. And with how expensive everything is, it’s so hard—‘</p><p>He catches himself, biting his lip. <em>Did he give himself away?</em> He looks up to find Jaehyun looking at him attentively. “Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling embarrassed, “I uh, went off a little too much, huh?”</p><p>“No!” At Taeyong’s startled expression, he backtracks, “no, I mean, that was—wow, it’s hard. It was really nice, seeing you so passionate about it. You sound like you really know what it’s like.”</p><p><em>That’s because I do</em>, Taeyong wants to say. His shoulders relax, as the ice between them melts. “And you sound like you’ve done some good research. Reading  my interviews too, now?”</p><p>Jaehyun laughs, dropping his gaze to his hands. It’s cute. “Well, I did say I’m a fan. Honestly, it’s amazing how you just—do everything. Like, you could have just read up on it and donated, but you’ve clearly done your research,” he’s tempted to snort. Yes, raising Mark did sometimes feel akin to a research experiment on the growth of human species, “and your fans then raised money for it too. They say the fans reflect the celebs sometimes, and it just shows you’re a good influence.”</p><p>Now, he can’t help it: he laughs, a little sudden, but not any less genuine. “Jung Jaehyun,” he says, focusing on the small paperweight holding down the brief. It looks like a hybrid between a compass and a top, and he spins it, smile still playing on his lips, “flattery might get you far in other places, but not with me.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s voice is playful, as he leans on the table, face propped up on one hand, when he retorts: “then pray tell, Lee Taeyong, what would instead?”</p><p>He feels his cheeks grow warm; the boldness unexpected, but he’s saved from answering as the door opens and Johnny greets them both before settling down. Not soon after, Moon Taeil follows in, then Seulgi, Sooyoung (who waves a small ‘hi’ at him, which he reciprocates easily) and a few more followed by the producer.</p><p>He feels the nervousness that had clung to him like a second skin fade, bit by bit, and when Jaehyun catches his eye at one point, he immediately averts his gaze. His heart does that weird bump again, and he ignores it, in favour of paying attention.</p><p>This time, he tries interacting with the others a little more. Taeyong’s not used to being that much of an active speaker during conversations, preferring to watch from the side lines, but he tries nonetheless. Where the others make up for it with loud jokes and laughter, he turns to listen to Taeil as his voice gets overshadowed about how difficult managing the shoot would be. His voice starts to fade, and he understands the feeling all too well.</p><p>“Is it because of the cameras?” he quietly asks, and when Taeil turns to looks at him, surprised, he’s glad he managed the courage to ask.</p><p>“Partly,” Taeil says, “children get easily distracted, you know. While they’re not going to be focusing on me too much, I still need to re-schedule some appointments. I don’t want to make any of the patients or their parents uncomfortable.”</p><p>Taeyong nods in understanding. He’d only ever seen the other on television shows, one where he gave advice to parents after running a few psychological tests on kids, and the other where he was a judge for a cooking show for kids. It’s…he didn’t know what he expected, but he’s calmer than Taeyong had thought he’d be. He hopes to maybe gain some insight from him, anything that could be helpful with Mark, but the topic is hard to approach, when no one knows you have a three year old son hidden behind the spotlight.</p><p>“What about you?” Taeil suddenly asks, and he startles out of his thoughts. “I hear you can’t film at home?”</p><p>Taeyong pulls his sleeves lower, wishing they could drown him whole, “yeah, the cameras. I’m already surrounded by them as it is, I guess I just—I wanna’ take a break from them at the one place I can.”</p><p>Taeil nods, looking at the others when the producer says something. They seem to be making fun of his fashion choices…which, he can’t say he blames them. “Good, good,” he says almost absentmindedly, “you’re a model, right? There’s enough pressure to look good as it is. You did good, putting yourself first.”</p><p>Taeyong stares at him, processing the words. <em>If only he knew.</em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun stares at the ceiling, willing his heart to calm down.</p><p>His phone lays only a few centimetres away, and the app only a few taps. <em>Should I? </em>He’s not sure. After all, this is the first time they ever had a proper—somewhat—conversation. He turns over, Lily on the floor already asleep. He wishes he was her; no handsome models with pretty smiles and even prettier personalities circling his brain.</p><p>His fingers itch, remembering Taeyong. He looked…<em>down</em>, there’s no other way he would describe him. A black oversized sweater, baggy pants and a beanie, it was almost like he wanted to fade in the background, hardly ever speaking, keeping to himself, away and distant from the conversation, as though he were somewhere else entirely. He’d caught him talking to Taeil a few times, and once Johnny, but other than that, the two hours had passed by with him barely making his presence known.</p><p>Jaehyun’s not dumb. Even among his family and friends, he doesn’t really have a hard time picking out when someone’s going through something, something they want to forget, even for just a moment.</p><p> And that post too…</p><p>He can’t help but think, what had gotten him so worked up. Was he being weird, thinking of the other when he barely knew him? But Jaehyun had been honest in everything he’d said, and maybe a little <em>too </em>much near the end but…Taeyong had laughed—a sweet awkward sound—and Jaehyun smiles, cherishing the memory.</p><p>He was <em>so </em>pathetic.</p><p>Lily swishes her tail, and he sits upright. It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?</p><p>He types, then deletes, then types, and deletes again. Finally, taking in a deep breath and mustering up the courage he settles on a text, and presses send.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>now that the show is starting soon, hoping to get to know each other better!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>have a goodnight!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(i hope this isn’t too forward asdfgh)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(please ignore that message i apologise)</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>*</p><p>Taeyong sighs, as he finally arrives home. The apartment is extremely quiet, and he toes his shoes off near the door, walking deeper until he arrives at the living room.</p><p>Mark’s fast asleep on the carpet, his limbs sprawled as his chest rises and falls with each breath. Arin had left not too long ago, something coming up, and since he was already on his way and Mark had fallen asleep, he wasn’t too concerned.</p><p>He feels his heart squeeze, approaching his boy. Face peaceful, oblivious to the world.</p><p>Taeyong chuckles, picking him up and cradling him near his chest. Mark feels warm, against him, and it helps tether him down; calm his nerves. He’d spilled over so easily to Jaehyun, but how could he not, when his son took up his thoughts most of the time? If only he could duplicate himself, send one away to work, while the other remained with Mark, to keep him company, to play, to see him grow and learn.</p><p>Taeyong tucks him in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and just…sitting there, playing gently with his fingers. Those small hands held Taeyong’s entire world within them, and he wishes there was some way, he could tell Mark that every time he had to be away from him for hours and hours on end.</p><p>He foregoes dinner, in favour of sitting near the window, watching the sky blaze with colours of the city. The helplessness grows and grows and grows, it takes up the entire room, sharp and tight and coiling around his chest. It cracks a piece of his heart each time he has to let go, when he can’t attend Mark’s little events sometimes, when he can’t even drop him or pick him up from kindergarten most days.</p><p>Was it childish? To feel a hot run of jealousy thrum in his veins, as he watched families so freely interact with their kids? No fear of being caught, no fear of risking their child’s privacy. He’d decided to keep his boy a secret, as the stalking became a little too overwhelming, and he’d finally pieced together enough money to buy a place in a gated community.</p><p>The phone vibrates against the cushions, and he stares at it, feeling very far away. A few minutes pass, before he can finally push himself forward, inch by inch, and swipe it open.</p><p>It’s Jaehyun.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Taeyong feels himself smile. Jaehyun was a weird one, wasn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Taeyong</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>you honestly need to stop apologising so much</em>
</p><p>
  <em>it’s fine^^ I find it cute</em>
</p><p>
  <em>goodnight, jaehyun</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hellooo!!</p><p>So umm...jaehyun might be meeting mark sooner than you think ;D also taeyongs new song monroe!!!! Its coming out soon on soundcloud, and it gave the perfect idea of what tocaption the insta post on the beginning. It was gonna be something else at first, but I settled on the quote because it for the mood better.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! Please leave a kudos/comments if you like it, it really  helps motivate me to write♡♡♡♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It’s too dark and too bright at the same time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Taeyong laughs, tipping his head back, and the world spins as though it wants to dance for him. He feels his heart curl and curl and beat at a rate it shouldn’t; not when all he’d drunk is some juice. A hand reaches next to him, as he leans against the bar, trying to steady his body before he loses control. It reaches and it slides a shot of something, what he doesn’t know, and the owner of the hand finally comes into view, when Taeyong remembers to look up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nice party, right?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Taeyong nods, though he has nothing but his high school parties to compare these too. It’s all so expensive, the clothes, the air filled with colognes of brands he couldn’t even pronounce much less afford. Taeyong nods, and the man takes it as an invitation to sit next to him, distanced and safe. His face is melting, when he looks at him, melting and becoming weird.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You look weird,” he blurts, and his cheeks heat up when the other laughs. He’s very tall. Nice, long—very pole like, Taeyong thinks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you,” the man says, voice smooth and distorted, his ears drowning. Everything is too full and not enough, colours blaring and not enough. He stands, and stumbles, and he feels the world shift, and skin burn as the man holds him before he face-plants.</em>
</p><p><em>“Goodness,” he says, and Taeyong agrees, “what did you </em>drink?<em>”</em></p><p><em>“Juice,” he says, pushing his lips into a pout. The sky was probably dark now, moon falling—no, not falling, </em>rising<em>—and he needed to get home. He had an exam in two days, and then maybe an audition if he could sneak away from his parents for long enough. Taeyong takes another step forward, and the man is silent, the music incessant bees circling his head, when he hears a familiar voice.</em></p><p>
  <em>“He’s with us,” she says, red and bright and Taeyong’s eyes hurt but he smiles and bows and nearly falls over if it wasn’t for the man holding him. “Gotten really tipsy, huh? He insisted we let him drink; young boys and their stubborn streak you know.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Taeyong frowns, he frowns and wants to correct, that he had drunk nothing at all. He frowns and wants to remind, that they’d offered him the glass first. It was just some juice. Was this food poisoning? Panic bubbles in his chest, and he’s being ripped away from the man and clawed closer to her, and her friends, and men and women and they’re laughing at him and watching him as he falls and makes a fool of himself his body no longer his to control as they watch and watch and watch until she reaches out a long finger digging the nail in to let his skin drip and drip and drip—</em>
</p><p>Taeyong shoots up straight, gasping as he wakes up. He claws his throat, and fumbles through the bedside drawer before finally finding the damn bottle and downing a tablet. Sweat mattes his hair, when he runs his fingers through it. He sighs, looking to his side to find Mark just there, reminding himself that it was merely a dream.</p><p>It’s a long few minutes, before he toes out of bed and into the kitchen, grabbing a cold soda to drink. He rolls his neck, before letting his head fall atop the cold countertop. It’s cold, the tiles freezing over in the night, and it permeates through his thin night shirt. It’s cold, and his heart feels colder, in an empty kitchen, surrounded by walls and cabinets and not another soul, and he brings his hands to rest his head against them.</p><p>It’s cold, as Taeyong feels a new layer of ice freeze itself over his heart, guarded and alone.</p><p>*</p><p>There’s a lot of cameras.</p><p>Much more than there should be.</p><p>“Jihye,” he whispers, and his manager hums, “they’ve started from today?”</p><p>She nods, still not tearing her eyes away from the phone. He wished he’d gotten more of a heads up, then he would’ve put in more effort in his appearance. Mark had suddenly decided to convert breakfast into hide and seek, and he had to run around the entire apartment in efforts of feeding him. By the time Jihye had pulled up, Taeyong had thrown the first clean pair of clothes he’d seen on, and dashed out with his son in tow.</p><p>Said son was happily playing in nursery now though, but Taeyong is still sad because his first proper appearance on the show would make him look like a hobo. His sweater is ratty, and blue jeans maybe a little out of trend.</p><p>“Taeyong-ssi,” one of the stylists call, and he takes it as a cue to get in the zone.</p><p>Which is, freezing over his facial expressions to suit whatever concept thrown at him. It was a darker one, with blues and gray most prominent colours, and the makeup is bold too. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the camera crew get ready, and there’s some talk behind him with the ones in charge of the shoot before they announce that they’re starting.</p><p>Taeyong doesn’t know if he’s supposed to particularly do anything. He knows he’s going to have an interview segment later on about his day, from their meetings, but other than that his mind’s blank, body moving on auto-pilot as he starts.</p><p>And the thing with editorials is usually, there’s not a lot of talking going on.</p><p>It leads to either the model getting distracted or the photographer instead. So he just does what he usually does, occasionally peeping at them to gouge their reactions. There’s not much to gouge though, with the masks covering the lower half of their faces. He thinks of how they’d edit the footage, thinks of what type of narrative they’ll shove him in. Taeyong’s been told that he looks three seconds away from burning the room down when he’s not smiling, but he really hopes that’s not what they go far.</p><p>It’s all he thinks about, even after they approach break, and he’s getting a little sweaty (and maybe feeling a little icky after wearing so many different outfits) as he settles on the couch. It’s all he thinks about, as Jihye joins, opening boxes of takeout for her and the staff, and slides over Taeyong’s lunch.</p><p>One of them—a young lady—comes closer to get a closer shot of the food, and he can tell that Jihye is maybe two seconds away from ceasing to exist out of hunger. She pans over to his food, and gasps, before looking up.</p><p>“Is that all?” she whispers, and he gives her a small nod. There’s weird look in her eyes, and he’s starting to think he’d done something wrong when she retreats to her corner. They talk a little—it was a variety show after all—about some past events, one of the stylists’ familiar from how often they’ve crossed paths. It’s…much more uneventful than he’d thought, and once they start wrapping up their meals, a thought slams against his brain and falls out his mouth without a filter.</p><p>“What about you guys?”</p><p>The staff look at him, flustered. Taeyong tilts his head in confusion. “Aren’t you going to eat? It’s been at least four hours, you’ll get sick.”</p><p>“Oh no no,” one of them nervously says, “please carry on, we’ll have it later.”</p><p>He says that, and Jihye pinches his thing discreetly, so he lets it go. Now, <em>that </em>is what circles his mind for the next few hours. They drink water a few times in between, and while some of the other staff occasionally snack in between, the ones behind the camera rarely ever leave their positions. There’s a knot of worry, growing tighter in his chest, and so as he finally is free of the final outfit, he rummages around his bag to find a few energy bars and packets of honey, slipping it to them when he’d about to leave.</p><p>The lady—now that he looks closer, she looks much younger than he’d initially thought—tries protesting, but Taeyong insists, just as Jihye comes by. She accepts it eventually, and he’s ushered into the car, cameras already fixed in place.</p><p>*</p><p>“So,” Arin asks, when he reaches his door. She’s dressed up, and he raises an eyebrow at her outfit. She rolls her eyes, before walking closer. “I started first. First day of shooting, you said you’d tell me when you get back.”</p><p>Taeyong laughs, “but you look pretty pre-occupied already, noona. Anything special for tonight?”</p><p>She hums, when he opens the door, and he expects her to follow him in, but instead she stands there, leaning against the doorway. “Something like that. A guy at my office asked me out.”</p><p>Taeyong whistles, from where he’d busy now unlacing his shoes. He can hear the television blasting some odd cartoon, and Mark’s voice occasionally attempting to mimic some of it. He’s smiling before he realizes it, genuine fondness bubbling in his chest. She’s wearing a navy blue gown, with a leg slit and some heels. It does not sound like an ordinary date to the café or mall.</p><p>“Good for you,” he says, and she nods, blushing. He’s tempted to tease her, but it’s been a while since Arin’s gone out, so he lets it be. “The shoot was fine, it was actually…not as bad as I expected? They just tagged along for all my schedules, and we talked as we normally did. Jihye asked some more stuff than usual, probably for the footage, and that was about it.”</p><p>“So what I’m getting is, you wished it was a <em>liiitle</em> more entertaining.”</p><p>“<em>No</em>, that’s exactly <em>not</em> what I’m saying. I’m just, there wasn’t anything to it in particular, like—“</p><p>“So <em>now </em>you’re saying the concept of the show sucks. Oh, poor staff members—‘</p><p>“<em>Arin</em>,” he whines, “you know I don’t mean it like that.”</p><p>Arin, instead of gracing him with an answer, pinches his cheek, before flipping her hair and sashaying towards the elevators. Taeyong rolls his eyes, pushing down the laughter climbing up. Arin and her odd flair for dramatics. The sound of the door shutting close resonates through the house, and before he knows it, Mark’s tiny but quick footsteps follow.</p><p>“Apa!” he screams in excitement, and today had gone by so much better than expected, that when Mark falls into his open arms, he picks him up and twirls him around. His shrieks fill the air, soon followed by Taeyong’s own laughter, and he throws the boy a few times (just a little) to hear that little giggle <em>one more time.</em></p><p>“More!” Mark squeals, as Taeyong settles him against him. Mark’s always fit so perfectly against him, hands easily finding solace on his shoulders and head resting against his neck. His very own little universe, all to for him to keep.</p><p>“I’m afraid Apa is now very tired,” he whispers, and the boy giggles. To make up for it, Taeyong runs to the bedroom, Mark tucked close to his chest, screaming as if he’s having the time of his life.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>As his days fill with auditions and fittings and practices, Taeyong’s getting more stretched thin than he ever has before. The shooting, the constant gaggle of people surrounding them as they overcrowd rooms with cameras and equipment. He lets himself be swept up in the chaos of it all, cherishing small moments between the staff when he’d trip and nearly scare half of them, or when one of them will crack a joke during break.</p><p>It’s exhausting, but in a good way. In a way that stops him from mulling over, from staying in his head too long. With his schedule getting hectic again, though, it means Yuta and Arin are constant visitors to his home; when he drops on to the sofa, feet sore and limbs even more, when he falls asleep, dinner not even close to the list of his priorities.</p><p>“Mark,” he says, crouching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. Mark looks at him, wide-eyed and curious, a sparkle that never failed to melt his heart in place. He was having a mini-sports day, something about the neighboring school and helping with their little performance. He could already imagine, his little Mark trying his best to do the moves, to follow along to everybody else as the other kids beside him would fall out of concentration one by one. He’d try his best, and look a little wonky, and Taeyong would not be able to see it.</p><p>Because something had come up.</p><p>Because something always did, and there is only so much, he can cancel.</p><p>“Apa’s really sorry, hmm?” Mark looks at him carefully, like he doesn’t really understand what Taeyong means. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe his son is too young, to know why his father couldn’t attend today, to know why his father’s heart is torn into pieces each time. Taeyong wonders, a few years down the line, if the boy would still be so oblivious, still be so carefree about it.</p><p>(A selfish part of him, hopes he will)</p><p>“It’s okay,” Mark says instead, and he clumsily opens his bags, looking through it for something. Taeyong watches him closely, and the boy toddles back over, something clutched in a death grip. “For Apa, so Apa’s not sad.”</p><p><em>A keychain. </em>One that Mark had been hell-bent on getting through the pouring rain of their amusement park trip. Taeyong feels something hot, prick the back of his eyes, and he envelops Mark in a hug he hopes conveys at least some of what he feels.</p><p> </p><p>They’re becoming familiar, Taeyong thinks, when he asks one of the younger members if they’re hungry, and they whisper a small ‘yeah, a little’. They’re becoming familiar, he thinks, as he orders them all food and drinks, as the boy later gives him a small smile, and even smaller ‘thank you’, hidden behind bashfulness and a cup of coffee.</p><p>Taeyong hopes the familiarity keeps him going, as he feels a pang of hunger. He hopes the little lion keychain keeps him going, as he looks at it one last time, before being called to the front for his turn. He hopes his little conversations with Jaehyun, reserved for the few pockets of time he managed for himself, keeps him going.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jaehyun</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>oh lily?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>yeah she’s over the moon, there’s so many people</em>
</p><p>
  <em>she keeps licking cameras and everyones toes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>so im no more enthusiastic about her kisses</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hope is all he has, as he imagines the golden retriever Jaehyun posts so often on his socials, hyper as she nearly runs over the camera crew’s tent. He’d always wanted a dog. He’d raised so many, growing up. But there were many things that Taeyong wanted.</p><p>Hope is all he has, as he tries not to let the headaches from his dwindling sleep schedule get to him, swaying before he grabs a wall to steady himself, hoping no one’s noticed. He’s barely been sleeping nowadays, finishing up chores when he finally does get home, playing with Mark till the boy’s exhausted and tucked in bed. Checking through his bills, his mail, scheduling another monthly checkup since the seasons were changing.</p><p>Hope is all Taeyong ever has, as poses in front of the cameras, and lets himself turn into something only to be seen, only to be displayed, as he lets his heart and mind numb over, almost as though they’ve been dipped in ice, the flashes one after the other blinding.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>[⭐ BREAKING⭐ ] Model Lee Taeyong allegedly faints during first shooting of ‘Life on the Inside’; rushed to the hospital. No official statement yet</strong>
</p><p>But maybe sometimes, hope is just not enough.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Jaehyun’s day is a whirlwind of emotions.</p><p>He’s sits, in the long winding white hallways, as a lady he has recognized as Jihye furiously paces back and forth, and Johnny gives him a look.</p><p>Honestly, he’s not sure what the other wants from him at this point.</p><p>His heart feels like it’s running a mile a minute from how fast it’s beating. Johnny’s only arrived a few minutes ago, it’s not like he was there when it happened. One moment, they’re all talking in the waiting room, the set being prepared as a few of them—namely Taeil and Sooyoung—already took their seats, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as to what would be shown and what would be cut out, that Taeyong had gotten up suddenly, feeling thirsty. He was quiet, quieter than usual, even more so than at the meeting, and he’d swayed a little while standing up.</p><p>Jaehyun should’ve known, from that alone, that something was very very wrong.</p><p>Because in the next minute there’s a crash, the sound of glass shattering against the tiles, and Taeyong on the floor.</p><p>He’d mind had gone a little blank; working on mere auto-pilot as he picked him up and laid him against the sofa. So much shouting in the background, but all he could focus were on the tiny pieces of glass embedded on the other’s arm, little drops of blood blooming against his skin.</p><p>He didn’t immediately wake up, and there was no safe way to remove the glass, so he’d volunteered to take him and his manager in his car. Which brings them here.</p><p>In front of a hospital room, body taut with worry.</p><p>“Are you all here for Lee Taeyong?” the nurse asks, and there’s a chorus of agreements. She nods, looking at her clipboard. “It’s nothing too serious. Just exhaustion and muscle pain. We’ve removed the glass shards and cleaned up the wound. Has he eaten…?”</p><p>The nurse looks at him, and he turns to look at Jihye, whose face is set in a frown. “A little; an avocado and a boiled egg. He’s on strict diet right now for runway season. But he’s eaten less and not fainted.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s heads kinda’ spinning. <em>Eaten less? </em>Taeyong was skinny as it is, how much more did he even need to lose? The nurse gives her a disappointed glance, “considering his schedules, it is way too less. Lack of nutrition and dehydration is what sent him over. He’s been given an IV drip, one more bottle after this and you can take him home. He needs rest.”</p><p>Jihye nods, before her phones buzzes again. She swears, before picking up and walking further down the hallway.</p><p>“So,” Jaehyun looks up, to find Johnny’s unimpressed gaze on him, “you offered to bring him here?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Johnny sighs, settling next to him on the cold seat. “Jaehyun, what if people saw you together?”</p><p>“Jihye was <em>with </em>me,” he feels a flare of annoyance. Taeyong had <em>fainted</em>, and this was all Johnny had to say to him? Jaehyun had been caught up in his own stuff the past few days, but Taeyong’s curiosity of how exactly they were filming in homes was endless, the only thing keeping their chats alive. Him and Johnny even had one last day of photography at the school tomorrow, and his mind is so all over the place, with what’s happened. Everything was so <em>normal</em>, until it wasn’t.</p><p>“I <em>know</em>,” Johnny says, “but that doesn’t stop reporters from writing what they want to. You’re still new, remember that. One wrong move and your career’s over. At least Taeyong has experience and a decent amount of following—and even if he didn’t, he’s a model. It wouldn’t matter.”</p><p>Jaehyun pinches his brows, “what do you mean? Johnny, I don’t get why you’re not understanding he <em>fainted—“</em></p><p>“—I am not concerned with Taeyong, I am concerned with <em>you.</em> Models have a reputation any way, he’d play into it. Is it something that out of ordinary? They have strict diets, they go on hunger for hours to fit those sample size shit, he could use this in his favour—“</p><p>“<em>Johnny</em>,” Jaehyun couldn’t even <em>believe </em>what he was hearing, “watch what you say. What the fuck’s gotten into you?!” before the other could say anything, he cut him off. He felt his blood thunder, “no Johnny, stop. I don’t—I get it, okay? You’re worried for me. But if people look at those photos, of me taking an unconscious Taeyong who’s hands are <em>bleeding </em>with his manager frantically following us, and <em>still </em>manage to twist it to something else, then it’s not my fucking fault. Maybe they should clear their heads, and so should you.”</p><p>Johnny shuts up.</p><p>He plays with his fingers, trying to quell the worry down. A part of him whispers that he shouldn’t be so worried in the <em>first place</em>, since the other’s fine. He really shouldn’t be worried, because they’re not even that close. He really shouldn’t, because Jaehyun is nothing to Taeyong; only an acquaintance, treading the lines of a possible friendship.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>He hangs his head, huffing a laugh. He doesn’t need to look over to know Johnny’s probably looking off to the side, sincere yet awkward with his words. “I sounded like a world class jerk.”</p><p>“You did,” and then they sit in silence. Because there’s nothing else they can do. Eventually, Jihye comes back, still cursing at her phone and mumbling things under her breath. Her frown softens into daze as she sees them.</p><p>“You two can be on your way now,” she says, not unkindly. Johnny gets up, Jaehyun following after a beat of hesitation. “He’s fine, it happens when he gets stressed. I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you, Jaehyun, don’t worry.”</p><p>He’s about to protest that he hadn’t done any of it for a <em>reward</em>, much less for a good word, but he’s cut off as Johnny smiles, thanking her and pulling him along. “Just take it,” he says under his breath, and the walls are so empty, the people even more as they pass by. Everything feels dulled and muted, within the hospital, and Jaehyun can’t help but ponder on Jihye’s words.</p><p>
  <em>It happens, when he’s stressed. </em>
</p><p>He ponders on how often it must be, for his manager to seem worried but not <em>for </em>him, as though an inconvenience had befallen, and person hadn’t gotten hurt. He gets into his car, Johnny waving goodbye, and thinks how Taeyong always looked better, among brighter colours.</p><p>*</p><p>He feels like shit.</p><p>Everything aches, there’s already stuff being thrown around online, and all he wants to do is rest, and not hear of the damage control resulting from his fainting. Ms. Kim’s in New York, for a deal or something, and the secretary had never taken to the models, and even less him.</p><p>“Really, Taeyong, with you being on this show, you should be more careful,” he says, lips curled and eyes hard. “So much press; do you even understand how big of an opportunity this is? I bet you don’t. Heard Jaehyun took you to the hospital—already very chummy with him, is it? Making connections, making friends, you do all these things and forget how much work goes into making you.”</p><p>Taeyong focuses on the spot behind him, the wall adorned with a canvas. The woman has her mouth stretched wide, impossibly so. An inky abyss.</p><p>“And then in a few days, you’ll be asking for <em>another </em>few days off. If you can’t even bother juggling your career, why bother? There’s a reason why mothers hold an upper hand in custodies. I wonder what you’d even teach him, what example a father who dresses up for the cameras will set.”</p><p>Taeyong curls his fingers against his palm, pressing and pressing and pressing hard enough for the nails to hurt against flesh. The women’s mouth is stretched open, as though she’s in agony, as though someone’s stolen her ability to scream.</p><p>“Take care of yourself more,” he says, his words dripping venom, “remember, it takes a second to think and only a phone call to replace you.”</p><p>Silence. He counts down: one, two, three, four. He was dismissed.</p><p>The sound of the chair is very loud, and the sound of his screams very quiet.</p><p>He turns the handle, just as he hears him mumble: “Your <em>son</em>,” it’s uttered with the distaste of a curse, a swear word, something <em>dirty</em>, “and your <em>priorities</em>.”</p><p>Taeyong slams the door shut, on the way out. He slams the door shut and walks over to the water dispenser, filling a plastic cup up. He fills it up, and pours it all over the entrance to his office, crumples the cup and throws in the trash.</p><p>And when he leaves, and hears an employee giggling about the secretary falling face-first onto the slippery floor, he smiles.</p><p>Taeyong’s scream were quiet. But his actions were not.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, kiddos, calm down,” Johnny says, not looking very calm. The children don’t care, as they assault their equipment. Jaehyun barely has time to remove a tripod before a boy, no taller than his knees, slams into it. His middle tooth is still missing, and he collides against Jaehyun’s legs instead.</p><p>“Hey,” he says crouching down, there’s a bout of screaming in the front, and Johnny’s voice followed by the teacher’s, so he’s not very concerned, “you okay?”</p><p>The boy stares at him, wide-eyed. Plump round cheeks, hair falling into his eyes, and a mouth open in surprise. Jaehyun wishes he could just. Pick him up and take him home—never mind, that sounded creepy. He smiles at him instead, giving a quick once-over that he wasn’t hurt.</p><p>“M’fine,” the boy murmurs, just when Jaehyun thought he wouldn’t speak up. He’s about to tell him to go and join his friends, when the boy pats his arm, very gently, as though Jaehyun was a rabid animal that would be set off by anything harder. “Are…you…okay? Mister? Too?”</p><p>Jaehyun feels a ball of fondness swell and explode in his chest, his smile turning sweeter and heart softer. “I’m fine, sweetie. Thank you for asking.”</p><p>“Mark!”</p><p>The boy startles, and it’s almost comical, the way he glances between him and his teacher, before realizing it was a better option to join his friends again. He shouts a ‘bye-bye!’ and Jaehyun waves at him, wanting the ground to hold him up by the shoulders instead, because holy shit, was Mark the cutest little boy he’d seen.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Taeyong is in a rush.</p><p>It’s like he’s turning into Jaehyun, showing up as if he’d run a marathon to just reach the damn meeting rooms. His body’s still not fully recovered, and hence he’d gotten the day off. He’d dropped Mark at the nursery early morning, and went to the agency for a little while, before coming home and catching up on rest. Who knew watching kdramas as you lounged against the sofa would be so effective in sending you to dreamland? And miss all your alarms?</p><p>Because now he nearly falls face-first off the bus if it wasn’t for the man behind him steadying him, hurrying to his son’s nursery. He would be damned if he missed his performance, clad in oversized clothes, mask, a beanie and glasses all drowning his identity. Sure, most people wouldn’t recognize him, much less care, but there was the tiny paranoid side of him, that reminded him of the paparazzi that seemed to manifest everywhere he went.</p><p>So Taeyong’s not taking chances, bowing in greeting as he reaches the gates and shows his ID, before making a beeline to the auditorium.</p><p>It’s just started, from what he can tell, an opening speech being given. He thumbs through the itinerary, and breathes a sigh of relief, slumping against the seat as he sees he’s not late. Taeyong keeps half a mind to what’s being said on stage, something about prestige and sports and athletics and academics; none he really cares about right now. There are cameras set near the front of the stage, and he mentally notes to ask the teachers about it before he leaves.</p><p>When Taeyong was younger, his grandparents—specifically his grandmother—would attend his events in an enthusiasm he had never really understood. He remembers when some of the kids would hide their faces in embarrassment, skin turning red and eyes uneasy as they glanced around, when their parents would scream their name in between the crowd. Taeyong himself had to discreetly maneuver himself to the audience’s seats multiple times, clicking the record button so his grandmother wouldn’t start poking the people around her.</p><p>
  <em>“Why can’t you just…I don’t know, sit and watch?”</em>
</p><p><em>“You’ll understand one day,” </em>she had said, <em>“there are times, in one’s life, that you would not want to miss for a second. A time so precious, you wanted to keep it with you forever.”</em></p><p>Taeyong hadn’t gotten what she meant, back then; maybe for other things, like a view that rendered you useless, or bigger things, like a graduation ceremony. But why did these small things matter, when they were no more significant than maybe few days and a week at most preparation? But as he clicks picture after picture in between filming the best he can from his seat, he thinks he now does. As he sees Mark hold hands with a little girl and little boy, all of them a little surprised with the amount of people, he too wishes he could cherish his son’s soft smile forever.</p><p>(And maybe Taeyong too, shouts Mark’s name and praises, after seeing them all try their best.)</p><p>*</p><p>It’s a little hectic, as they’re called backstage, where they take a few more pictures. It’s so loud, there’s someone crying, and Johnny is trying to get two kids to stop pushing each other so he could get a good shot for them. It makes Jaehyun laugh, glad that he’d been shoved to equipment duty. He adjusts the lights, and the teacher gives him an apologetic smile.</p><p>He’s about to say that it’s all fine, when the door opens, and another parent comes in asking for her child. Yerim, as he’d came to known her, runs towards said parent, leaving behind giggles in her wake. And behind him, he hears a click. When he turns, he finds Johnny grinning at him, before going through his camera. Jaehyun leans over to see a heart-melting shot of them, as her mother’s leaning down to pick her up.</p><p>“Do I have to pay for that, Youngho?”</p><p>Jaehyun, surprised to hear Johnny’s real name, snaps his head back to look her. Now that he focuses, she’s vaguely familiar, but he can’t exactly recall from <em>where. </em>His curiosity is rewarded though, when she looks at him, and gives a small wink. She’s gorgeous, even though she’s just clad in a plain black suit.</p><p>“Bae Joohyun,” she says, “or more popularly, Irene. I’m a model—and, Yerim’s mom.”</p><p><em>Seoul Fashion week, </em>his brain reminds. The headline comes back to his mind: she’d managed to get a diamond necklace sold out, after wearing one during a show. She’s even more striking in person, as she asks Johnny to send her the pictures when he can, rushing out as soon as the teacher hands over Yerim’s bag.</p><p>“I didn’t know she had a kid,” is all he says, though he does vaguely know she’s gotten married. Johnny hums. “They want to wait till she’s a little more mature. Her husband’s a director at some company; I heard they might move to Canada or something soon.”</p><p>Jaehyun doesn’t really know what to do with that information. He’s sure she’d be a big hit there too—her presence in the room alone was a testament to that. But he wonders how many more celebrities had lives that had been kept private and away from the cameras? Relationships weren’t surprising, but he’d met people who’d been married <em>and </em>divorced without a hint of the media knowing.</p><p>Jaehyun wonders, how much it took, to keep their lives to themselves.</p><p>A few more parents come in after that, and the room starts trickling out. He spots Mark sitting near the corner of the classroom, absolutely adorable in his lion outfit. It suits him, in a way. Like a little lion cub. Once Johnny’s done, he walks over to the silent boy, who’s so busy playing with the toy abacus that he immediately drops it the moment Jaehyun says ‘hi’.</p><p>“Oh sorry,” he laughs, handing it back to him, “did I scare you?”</p><p>Mark stares at him first, as if to ascertain he was safe and not a Stranger. He oddly feels nervous, even though it’s just a three year old with the biggest eyes he’s seen, lips pushed into pout. The inane urge to squish is simmering, but he restrains. He must gain this tiny person’s trust first.</p><p>“Yes,” Mark says, and then immediately starts playing with the abacus.</p><p>Okay.</p><p>Was this rejection? He did not know. Before he could say anything more, though, the teacher called out the boy’s name. “You father’s here, Mark!” she said, and it’s a sight, truly, to watch his face transform from surprise to understanding to such unperturbed excitement, as he all but forgets both the abacus and Jaehyun, sprinting—and nearly tripping—across the room.</p><p>“Apa!” he screams, squealing as he falls into his father’s arms. It beautiful, the sound of their joint laughter as he picks him up, and Jaehyun now understands why Johnny always took on these minor events at schools, amongst children of all ages; to witness the purity these moments held in their palms, nothing but love, as Mark rambled on to his father. He couldn’t really get a good look of him, with his face obscured with a mask and wide eyes hidden behind wider glasses, but…they seemed familiar, especially that <em>voice</em>—</p><p>“Jaehyun?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, turning to see Johnny struggling with a suitcase, “need help?”</p><p>“Would be appreciated.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s heart is thundering inside of him so hard he thinks he might just die. He can barely breathe, but he smiles nonetheless, Mark tucked against him and his bag on his shoulder, maneuvering through the crowds and humming as the boy told him about the great difficulties of changing outfits.</p><p>He somehow makes it out. How, he’s not sure, but he does and stops an incoming taxi. The bloods rushing in his head is <em>deafening</em>, but he manages out his address, getting in and settling Mark next to him.</p><p>Jaehyun.</p><p>And Johnny.</p><p><em>Both </em>of them.</p><p>What were the chances?</p><p>He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he bumped into Irene and her daughter Yerim on the way in—one of the only other people beside his friends and immediate family that knew of his situation, considering she was in a similar position—and she’d told him to cover his face up.</p><p>If he hadn’t…</p><p>He doesn’t want to think. Mark tugs at his sleeve, and he looks down to see his boy’s sad expression. “Apa?” he asks, and he belatedly realizes that shit, he’d been so distant the entire ride. “Yes, love,” he says, pulling his mask down, and giving him a smile, “sorry, Apa was just thinking of something. So, Mina fell?”</p><p>Mark gives him what he supposes is a glare, but his baby’s too small and too harmless for it to have any effect. Instead, Taeyong chuckles, pulling him in his lap and smoothing down his hair. <em>It’s getting long again. </em>The knot of anxiety loosens its hold a little, as he focuses on Mark’s clumsy words and expressive voice instead.</p><p><em>We’re safe</em>, he reminds himself, <em>we’re still safe.</em></p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere, in the heart of the city, there stands a studio named ‘Johntography’. Somewhere, within the hallways and tucked into a corner, is a room that lets in the perfect light, the greens splashed across the floor when the leaves outside fall forward just right. Somewhere inside, in a spacious desk that homes computers and papers and so much more, overflowing yet organized. Somewhere behind that desk, sits Johnny Suh in his chair, eyeing a photo he’d taken earlier that day.</p><p>And somewhere, in the back of his mind, as he sees the boy giggling against his father, the pieces click into place, one after the other.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t you have a family too?</em>
</p><p>Lee Taeyong, he thinks, scrolling forward to check the others, what exactly are you hiding?</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“Let’s get started, shall we?”</p><p>There’s a chorus of affirmation, all in varying levels of excitement. Taeyong wishes the ground could swallow him whole. Goodness, what would he even <em>say? </em>They had a script too, just in case, and yet, he couldn’t help the knots in his stomachs. At least, as the staff does the slate, he can have a few minutes to himself, Taeil and Johnny on a roll.</p><p><em>Focus. </em>Johnny’s wearing a white suit, with a red shirt underneath, while Taeil sports a more casual look in a beige sweater. They smile, they speak, and they laugh, and it’s easy to lose himself in their banter instead of his mind, chuckling despite himself when Taeil cracks a joke. He’s got this, he reminds himself, he could do this.</p><p>“Let’s meet our guests,” Johnny starts, “Taeil-ssi, can you tell me a little something about the first person?”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a hard one,” Taeil says, and receives a playful slap on the arm from Johnny, “while I’d personally say there’s not much to say, it wouldn’t be fair to project my personal tastes, would it?” He glances towards the screen in front for a split second, “our first guest is a well-anticipated one. Trended worldwide for three hours after the show was announced; last year this person’s managed to sell out their merchandise, not once or twice, but <em>thrice. </em>Vogue Korea’s dubbed him as the next hottest thing in the world of photography, already standing with an impressive resume with a National Geographic collab earlier this year.”</p><p>“Jung Jaehyun, welcome to the show!”</p><p>And on cue, they all clap. Taeyong kinda’ wants to giggle, because it looks a little funny without all of the usual effects and background sound clips. He can already imagine what the editing team’s aiming for. They move on smoothly after that, falling on Sooyoung next to him, who’s all shy smiles. He’d expected her to be nervous with the host’s comments, their playful jabs, but she stands her ground easily, deflecting with a flippantness he’s coming to admire. There’s Seulgi, who he’s lost touch with after she’d started taking more shows abroad too, but it makes him proud after hearing she’s now a brand ambassador for Ferragamo.</p><p>“But when it comes to modeling,” Johnny says, looking at Taeil, “you just <em>know </em>we can’t <em>not</em> mention this guy’s name.”</p><p>“I think I know who you mean. This person made countless headlines last year, for the most numbers of shows walked—by a male muse, nonetheless—and three brand collaborations in one year alone. With a fan following of over three million on social sites, and guaranteed selling power of 127%, welcome Lee Taeyong!”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He tries to give his humblest smile, even though his face is on fire. “He’s even more handsome in person, don’t you think, Johnny-ssi?” Johnny laughs, before answering: “what, is Taeyong-ssi to your personal tastes?”</p><p>Taeyong mutters a small ‘thank you’. They catch on to it; his shyness, and tease him relentlessly with compliments. It’s odd, because it’s <em>supposed </em>to be a good thing, but he just wants to evaporate into mist than to have so much attention thrown at him at once. On the runway, the model did not matter. They were nothing more than mere frames—displays, almost—for the art the clothes held within them. He’s used to a detached interest, not a pointed one<em>.</em></p><p>“No, no,” he protests, when Johnny says that he probably thinks Sooyoung is way beneath him in the hierarchy, “not at all. She’s super sweet. The only place where I’d take advantage of the gap between us is to maybe give her advice as a senior. But from what I’ve seen so far, she doesn’t need it; Joy’s doing plenty of a good job on her own; much better that I did when I was a rookie.”</p><p>When Taeyong looks over, Taeil has a soft smile gracing his face. Johnny, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, mentioning something about ‘maintaining a good social life’. Thankfully, they move on from there, as Jaehyun interrupts with something and the director announces the video segment will start in a second.</p><p>“Hey,” he turns, to find Sooyoung’s beam directed at him. There’s a dusting of red on her cheeks, and he’s tempted to ruffle her hair, “thank you. It means a lot.”</p><p>“I just said the truth,” he tells her, and their brought back to the present, after another slap of the slate.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a long few hours, as they go through surprisingly <em>Taeil’s </em>footage first. But he’d made sure to pay extra attention, watching so intently that Seulgi had even laughed and said Taeyong looked ready to jump into the screen. Then there was Jaehyun, following by Seulgi, and then they’re finally graced with a break.</p><p>The girls go out for a while, something about getting some fresh air. Taeyong’s taken to walking in the empty hallways instead, his lower back hurting after hours of sitting in the same place.</p><p>“Do you feel better now?”</p><p><em>Jaehyun. </em>He’s standing in the doorway, denim jacket tucked into the waiting rooms as they left the air-conditioned set. Taeyong thinks he looks better like this: simple black t-shirt and jeans. He recalls his footage earlier, the mussed up hair, that seemed it would be so unbelievably soft to the touch, his bleary eyes as he glanced about the room. Jaehyun looked so in <em>home</em> in his own skin, just plain pyjamas on as he’d lounged in front of the cameras, as he’s smiled and laughed; playing with Lily, walking her and greeting those around him, clumsy at the restaurant and studio but so charming all the same. It made Taeyong’s heart melt in a way that hasn’t in a long time.</p><p> Up close, Jaehyun’s even more striking. He’s also a little dorky, because he’d caught the other accidentally hit a lamp on the way here.</p><p>Not that he would bring it up.</p><p>“I do, actually,” Taeyong takes a few steps more, so he’s in front of him. He has to slightly tilt his head up, to look at him. “Thank you, Jihye told me you helped.”</p><p>“It’s more than fine. You should really take better care of yourself,” Taeyong hums in reply. He’s trying, but it’s hard. He can’t mess up his diet, but his schedule doesn’t give him time for rest either. It’s a tug of war, tearing his apart from the middle, but Taeyong would be damned if he didn’t stich himself back together each time.</p><p>“I try, but it’s more so because of the stress. It’s like, always been an odd problem of mine. My body just shuts down, instead of powering through it like everyone else.”</p><p>“Maybe everyone else isn’t a measurement you should compare yourself by,” Jaehyun says, frowning. Taeyong nods, but there’s a thump behind his chest again, and the other’s voice is very gentle. He should probably take those words to heart, for someone who did nothing but compare. Maybe that was his problem, he could never be happy with what lay within him, around him, without wanting more.</p><p><em>That’s because you’re selfish,</em> a voice whispers, and he squashes it down. <em>Not now. </em></p><p>“Taeyong?”</p><p>“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “Lily looked very excited, I hope you’re not leaving her alone for too long.” Jaehyun huffs a laugh, gaze falling before he looks at him again. It’s one Taeyong isn’t used to, filled with something that he hasn’t seen all that often. Warm, and…fond? No, it was all probably in his head.</p><p>“Of course not, she’s my baby. My neighbor watches over her when I’m not there. I think she’d love to meet you.”</p><p>“And what makes you think I want to meet her?”</p><p>“With all the questions you ask about her?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, and Taeyong feels himself blush, “there is no way you don’t love my girl. I can’t blame you—she has a way of getting on everyone’s nerves and just, sitting there until you can’t live without her anymore.”</p><p>“That’s a strange way to say she’s the sweetest dog ever,” Taeyong says, because he will not accept Lily slander. Yes, she probably got slobber on everyone and everything, and maybe from what Jaehyun told him broke things when she was too excited, but…she was a retriever, what else would you expect?</p><p>“Awfully defensive of a dog you’ve never met,” Jaehyun laughs, and it’s only then he notice the dimples homed in the other’s cheek, now all the more pretty beyond the confines of a screen. The child-like instinct to poke is there, but Taeyong doesn’t, because he is an adult with self-control. Jaehyun’s face transforms when he laughs, nose scrunching up adorably.</p><p>Jaehyun is cute. Very cute.</p><p>“I’m an animal lover to the bone,” Taeyong retorts, leaning against the wall. It’s nice and cool, holding him up as his legs tire out. There’s still a couple hours of filming, and after the auditions he did yesterday, his body’s so incredibly sore. Maybe Jaehyun notices, because his eyes soften—and, Taeyong doesn’t really know, what to do when he looks at him like that. The spark of mischief replaced by gentle worry and concern. Everything about Jaehyun was gentle.</p><p>“We should go back in, probably grab something to eat and drink before the shooting starts,” he turns, and Taeyong follows him easily, just as Jaehyun once again, manages to accidentally smack the lamp.</p><p>So maybe not everything.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>dun dun dun</p><p>lmao anyways,,, thanks for reading! please tell me if you enjoyed! your comments really mean a lot in helping me write ;;-;; honestly im kinda scared/insecure is whether this is going well? since im more used to writing shorter fics so ;-;; yesh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hot sauce 100M in a week lets gooooo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Love,” Taeyong pleads again, “<em>please. </em>It’ll only take five minutes! I’ll be there with you the entire time!”</p><p>Mark shakes his head, resolutely staring at his hands. Yuta sighs behind him. “Yong, I really think you should just do it yourself, he’s not going to be ready any time soon.”</p><p>But how could he? Taeyong’s terrified, of what would happen if he cuts too close and pierces the skin. Mark’s hair had started falling into his eyes the past few days, the boy constantly pushing it back until Taeyong slapped a few hairclips on. He just couldn’t find the time for a hairdressing appointment, until he remembered Yuta and his knack for cutting hair. Sure, he’d only ever cut Taeyong’s and their friends, but Taeyong had full trust him—it was just a small trim, after all.</p><p>But the moment the scissors had been brought out, Mark had started crying.</p><p>“What if I mess it up?”</p><p>Another round of sighs. Yuta holds him by the shoulders, staring into his eyes. “Listen, it doesn’t fucking matter. Kids look like a disaster and half most of the time, he could show up with a Mohawk and people would chalk it up to him being stubborn after seeing someone on TV. It won’t be your fault, and Mark’s life, I assure you, will not fall apart because of one bad hair day.”</p><p>“Okay,” Taeyong says, and Yuta pats him. He got this. He had to get this. Or else his teacher would call again, and there’s nothing more he hated than getting a call from Mark’s teacher.</p><p>So he steels his nerves, and bends to look at Mark on where he’s sitting on the high chair. “Baby,” he starts, and Mark looks at him, eyebrows pinched into a frown, lower lip jutted out into a pout. Taeyong pushed down the urge to squish. “Is it okay if Apa does it?”</p><p>“But…” Taeyong cards his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down so it covers the boy’s eyes. “If you don’t get your haircut, then everything will look like this, baby.”</p><p>“But I can’t see!”</p><p>“Exactly. And you won’t be able to see Apa, or play with Mina, Yeri or even Jihoon.”</p><p>Mark gasps, and he knows he’s got him now. The next hour is filled with Yuta careful hyping him up, giving directions, and distracting Mark when Taeyong starts sniping near his bangs. It’s cute, when he’s finally done, and he feels a swell of satisfaction in his chest. Now his son no longer looks like the girl from the ring!</p><p>“No,” Yuta chides, but he’s smiling despite it, holding away his phone so Mark can’t chew on his waffle key ring, and Taeyong knows he’s going to relent and let him play with it by the time he’s done cleaning up. Yuta props him on his shoulders, zooming into the living room, and Taeyong revels in the giggles and shouts filling the apartment.</p><p>The hair, though, oh the hair and mess against the white tiles and counters. He pushed up his sleeves. It was time for some good ol’ cleaning.</p><p>*</p><p>“Are you tired?”</p><p>Taeyong makes a sound between a dying chicken and sad elf, and Yuta like the good friend he is, understands, patting his head. Mark’s on the floor, wrestling with legos as they both watch him just in case. It feels nice, to have a day just to himself and his son, and with Yuta tagging along the apartment felt livelier than usual. He hadn’t realized it—the first week, after the shooting, what toll it would take on him as cameras focused on his every move, as the realization that <em>any </em>of these staff members could go online and spout anything they wanted and he’d have to get through it.</p><p>But it was sinking in, and this was a different exhaustion. One that he’s dealing with enough already.</p><p>“Penny for your thought?”</p><p>Mark smacks two legos together, and surprisingly they <em>click</em>, making the boy gasp. Taeyong smiles. A little tired, but it’s there. “Just,” he starts, and wonders how to encapsulate everything. Yuta’s one of his only friends that’s been around after university, as he drifted further and deeper into the industry, and lost time and contact with most of them. He’s been with him through a lot—tears, screaming, helplessness, doubts—and Taeyong doesn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t.</p><p>“There’s so much going on,” he starts again, this time snuggling on the other’s thigh, Yuta’s hand finding place on his head, as he slowly cards through it, “sometimes…I think I’m drowning underneath it all, you know? Every morning, there’s work to be done, and then there is so much worry, and then there’s Mark—is he fine? Is he happy? Is he going to resent me for this?—and then I come home, and it’s so quiet once he sleeps, sometimes I think the silence might kill me. I don’t get it.”</p><p>“Don’t get what?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t I be happy with that? It gives me time to relax, nothing to do for once. But the longer I stay in it, the longer my heart aches. I should be happy with my job, with the opportunities…”</p><p>“You think you’re being…--“</p><p>“—<em>greedy,” </em>Mark toddles over to them, and Taeyong sits up, as the boy shows him what he’s made. It’s a little wonky, but pride blooms against his chest, and he places a kiss atop the boy’s head, complimenting him. Yuta teases him for it, until Mark starts whining, and he relents, telling him he did a good job. After he’s satisfied with the praise, he goes back to the toys. Taeyong wonders, sometimes, if his son is as lonely as him. What is the life that he’s giving him? Hidden away; a secret. Isolated, even though he tries his best to makes sure he gets plenty of time at nursery, and sometimes with Yeri when Irene is free.</p><p>But a child is meant to run free, to play and to learn and grow. And he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s worthy of being Mark’s father, if he’s capable.</p><p>“Yong.”</p><p>Weren’t mothers better at this? A bond between a child and a mother was irreplaceable, something so deep even before birth. What good was Taeyong?</p><p>“Yong, you listening?”</p><p>They were probably right. Taeyong was trying to fit in shoes too big for his own feet, stumbling and tripping and ruining everything. He could try and try, and it would not be enough.</p><p>“Taeyong,” he startles out of his thoughts, when Yuta squeezes his hands. There’s that gaze again; warm, and so so fond, and filled with something that kinda’ hurt to look at. He’s reminded of Jaehyun back at the set, the concern that lay behind his eyes, the sincerity etched into his face. As if he really cared, of what happened to him, as if Taeyong was someone worth caring for.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Yuta says, not looking away for a second. The weight of his attention is heavy, and he can’t help but focus, “I think you’re not greedy enough.”</p><p><em>What? </em>“Yuta, what do you—“</p><p>“The cards you’ve been dealt,” Yuta interrupts easily, “it’s—it’s ridiculous. Taeyong, you’re only in your <em>20s </em>right now, you’re not even <em>25. </em>This—these things, these thoughts, this—you of all people, don’t deserve to have them in your head. The silence hurts because you’ve taken yourself so far away from us all, you’ve distanced <em>yourself </em>from happiness, Yong.”</p><p>He can hear Mark mutter an ‘oops’ in the background, as something rolls away. Yuta hugs him, and Taeyong wants to melt against him, because he doesn’t want the other to see the wetness in his eyes. “You, of all people,” Yuta murmurs against his shirt, “deserve it the most.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun pulls the jacket tighter around him, the cold air biting.</p><p>The night sky is shrouded in light, and he wishes he was back at his grandmother’s instead, where the stars let him watch them, where they cleared his head and kept him company.</p><p>Because Jaehyun could really do so with some, right now.</p><p>Instead, he digs against the asphalt with his shoes, the music blaring from the party and rising against the skies. Instead, he sighs, as another breeze passes through and a ring of laughter surrounds the area before it dissipates. Alcohol, smiles, jewelleries and cameras. Jaehyun had gotten a good few contacts—courtesy of Johnny—but he’d started feeling hollowed out, as the night went on.</p><p>This was the fourth one he’d been to, and the third one where Johnny’s ditched him for someone in hopes of probably getting them in bed. He’s not sure, nor too concerned. All he wants to do is run away, and bury himself under Lily. The city feel enormous, and he feels so utterly insignificant, and it’s probably the alcohol talking, but the aches is there again, has been since the past few days.</p><p>Has been since the first episode’s shooting.</p><p>“Hey,” someone calls out, and Jaehyun turns, to find a man walking up to him, coat fluttering in the breeze. He’s beautiful, the lights only doing him more favours as the makeup glistens on his skin. Cat-like eyes watch him carefully, and Jaehyun really hopes he’s not here for his number. He’d done giving numbers.</p><p>“Jung Jaehyun, right?” Jaehyun nods, and he nods too. “Good, I’m Ten—yes, like the number. Brief intro so you don’t think I’m a creep: I’m a dancer, but I’ve been choreographing for a few groups recently so…yeah! And I already know you, so you don’t have to say anything.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jaehyun says, amused. Ten nods again. There’s a flush against his cheeks, and he wonders if the other’s drunk. Ten, as though struck by lightning, flaps around before reaching into his coat to fish out his phone. He’s very cute, a good inches shorter than him, and he fights the odd urge to pat. <em>Bad Jaehyun</em>, he reprimands himself, <em>you don’t pat strangers! They’re not puppies!</em></p><p>“Here!” A phone is suddenly thrust into his views, with a contact that says ‘<em>Minnieee’ </em>and a number. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. “Uh,” he says rather unintelligently, and a part of him feels bad for not getting it, because Ten looks very excited to show him. Thankfully, the man in unperturbed.</p><p>“Oh, silly me!” He laughs, and it’s cute, and Jaehyun hopes he hasn’t come alone tonight with how tipsy he is. “So she’s like—basically she’s from an idol group, and their company gave them the responsibility for their album, so she’s looking for a photographer! And you’re a photographer! The location’s Jeju, if you’re wondering!”</p><p>That, perks Jaehyun’s interest. “But you want something, in return.”</p><p>Because that’s how it works. Ten, to his credit, looks guilty. “Caught, am I? But I just need a ride home! You’re the only person who’s not drunk yet, and my boyfriend will kill me if I’m late again!”</p><p>It’s…Jaehyun laughs, because he’d expected so much more. “You didn’t have to do a favour for that, Ten, I could’ve dropped you regardless.”</p><p>“Aha!” Ten says, “<em>could’ve. </em>But now, you must! So let’s go, come on, we don’t have all night.”</p><p> </p><p>Ten is a very interesting person. In the span of twenty minutes, he’s managed to spill most of his life story—came from Thailand when he was sixteen, got a scholarship, learned the language in a year—is currently freelancing, teaching kids in his spare time and taking offers on others. He knows five languages, is flexible enough to lick his elbow, hates fruits, loves cats and is hoping he can join a studio one day.</p><p>“Like, a place I <em>belong</em>, you get what I mean?” Jaehyun nods, following along the GPS. “Like, I mean it’s probably because I’m a foreigner, but I always feel like I don’t belong anywhere? Like neither Thailand, nor here, I left when I was super young, so I’m kinda’ disconnected, and here I have a few friends—and my boyfriend, of course—but it’s just. It’s like this glamour is all so shallow, you know? It’s fun sometimes, but that’s all it is. Fun. Nothing more to it, nothing less.”</p><p>Jaehyun gulps at the words. “I get it,” he says, and Ten hums, tired out. The flaming ball of energy is now merely leftover smoke, when they reach his building. Ten hesitates, before opening the door, and Jaehyun—for just a <em>split second—</em>thinks he might get murdered.</p><p>But he doesn’t. Instead, Ten murmurs a soft, “thank you.”</p><p>“Not a lot of people are nice around here, but you’re new, and Johnny’s friend. Everyone knows Johnny hates stuck-up people, so you were a safe bet. But still, thank you.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s about to respond, but Ten leaves before that. And he can’t help but think, that despite Ten’s claims of his boyfriend being so understanding, that the life drains out of him with each step he takes forward. The smiles are replaced with straight lines, and shoulders slumped.</p><p>Jaehyun drives away, with too much on his mind, until he’s well out the city, and somewhere where the hints of stars sparkle.</p><p>
  <em>Shallow.</em>
</p><p>Was that it? Was that what bothered him? But it shouldn’t. He knew what he was getting into. But tonight had drilled it in his brain even better than before. It took them less than a minute to turn their back and say things about him, discuss him like he was piece under a microscope they needed to figure out. Jaehyun couldn’t take it in there—too suffocating, too many people who seemed like all they wanted to do was forget. What, he’s too scared to guess.</p><p>His thoughts wander back to Taeyong, the hospital. Was he the same? But Taeyong was always so in himself, an unbreakable wall between him and the outside world. His words come back to him, and Jaehyun should really stop thinking about him, should really stop worrying over him when he probably had more than enough people to do that.</p><p>But.</p><p>It was strange. He expected, for it to fall away. The admiration he had for the other, the slight <em>crush</em> even. But Taeyong was so nice, so warm when he looked at others, so open and ready to hear. He’d overheard one of the staffs jokingly call him a ‘mother hen’, and Jaehyun didn’t look carefully enough, tripping and tripping.</p><p>Taeyong’s contact sits there, their last conversation about what beans Jaehyun should use after he’d burnt all the rice, too busy playing with Lily. They talk in a bubble, and he’s so scared, of what lies beyond it. Everyone carried secrets, in a place like theirs, and he wonders if Taeyong would ever tell him; a foolish hope, of a person too far gone.</p><p>But Jaehyun’s always been a little foolish, and the phone’s ringing before he knows it.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The universe has an odd way of things.</p><p>“Hey,” Taeyong says, confused, but not unwelcome, “you’re…calling?”</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind,” Jaehyun’s voice washes over him in easy waves, deep and full and calm. There’s a regular rustle, and he guesses the other’s outside. “Not at all,” Taeyong replies, closing the cabinet. He was cleaning up for the night, after tucking Mark in.</p><p>“Is everything fine?”</p><p>“Oh yeah, sure,” Jaehyun laughs, and it makes him laugh too, small, but so loud in the empty kitchen. Taeyong takes a seat, hands against the counter, eyes tracing the skyline. Where would Jaehyun be, in midst of the burning lights?</p><p>“Just…thought I’d call you, I’m sorry—I didn’t, I didn’t really plan this out.” Taeyong smiles, loving the way his voice bleeds unease so easily, at the slightest things. “It’s fine, mind telling me what got you in the mood instead?”</p><p>“I was at a party,” <em>ah, </em>“and then I wasn’t. I wish there was more to it, but there isn’t. It’s been a while, since I’ve heard your voice.”</p><p>It had. The next shooting was due two weeks later, and his and Jaehyun’s schedules rarely intertwined. “Missing me already?” Taeyong settles with, and feels his heart quicken. <em>That was odd. </em></p><p>“Is it bad if I say yes?” Jaehyun says, “you’re not an easy person to forget.”</p><p>Taeyong pauses, at that. He thinks, of what to say in return, and slips the first thing that comes to mind. “Neither are you, Jaehyun.”</p><p>It’s easier, than he’d expected, to slip into conversation. To let words exchange between them, to hear Jaehyun’s laugh echo down the line and feel his heart stutter at the sound. It was odd, and easy, and Taeyong laughs when the other tells him about Lily and one of her misadventures, something similar about Mark just on the tip of his tongue before he restrains himself.</p><p>“You play?” Taeyong asks, surprised. All he needed to do was brush his teeth, and he’d be ready for bed. Time had slipped through his fingers, and it’s only when he’d spotted Mark’s toy piano on the floor did he ask the other. He hadn’t expected it to be a ‘yes’, though.</p><p>“I learned it a while back, when I lived with my grandparents. My granddad loved the piano, he’d play it for my grandma every evening, and sometimes I’d sit beside him and learn, or sit with her and just watch and listen.”</p><p>Taeyong paints the picture in his mind, warmth spreading through him. A small Jaehyun, curious and quiet, tracing the movements on the piano, cozied up and safe. “That’s pretty romantic, actually, really sweet of him.”</p><p>“Oh, definitely. I learned love from them, you know? I lived with them pretty often when I was younger, and there didn’t have to be any words said, but you could still feel it, in the way they did things for each other.”</p><p><em>I learned loved from them. </em>Taeyong mulls over the words, how beautiful that sounded, to have an example live and breathe next to you. “You sound like you miss them a lot, too.”</p><p>“I do,” and then, a pause. The silence is weighted, and he wonders if Jaehyun’s lost himself to the memories. When he does speak again, it’s quiet, almost as if he’s afraid to say the words.</p><p>“I really do, actually,” Taeyong feels his heart squeeze, when Jaehyun takes a sharp breath in, “I uh, you know I wouldn’t have gotten the courage, to come this far, if it wasn’t for them. I—“</p><p>Before he can continue, a cry cuts into the silence of the apartment. <em>Mark. </em>“Hey, Jaehyun,” he interrupts, and oh why did it have to be <em>now</em>, Jaehyun’s voice so delicate that the guilt flooded in like buckets, “I’m uh—I’m really sorry, I gotta’ go.”</p><p>“No it’s fine—is that, is that a <em>kid</em>, in the background?”</p><p><em>Shit. </em>“Uh,” Taeyong grapples on what to say, “my nephew—he’s uh, he’s staying over so I think he might’ve gotten a nightmare or something I’m not sure—“</p><p>“Sure, yeah, go ahead. Goodnight and good luck!”</p><p>Taeyong runs a hand through his hair, bidding the other a goodbye before he rushes to see him. Mark’s sitting up, sobbing his heart out, and Taeyong’s heart clenches in his chest. He’s not sick, at least not a fever, and the moment Mark spots him, he reaches out his arms to be held. There’s no point in getting anything out of the boy when he’s liked this though, so Taeyong picks him up and bounces him a little, walking around after making sure that nothing hurt.</p><p>It takes a good thirty minutes, and a lot of humming any damn song he could think of, until Mark finally calms down, face pressed into his shoulders. The cries are practically non-existent, when he passes by a mirror to check if his eyes had started drooping again.</p><p>“Love?” He calls out, and Mark makes a soft sound, but he’s already being pulled back into dreamland. Taeyong breathes a sigh of relief, walking around for a few minutes longer—just in <em>case—</em>and tucks him in bed, laying down next to him to pat his tummy, a small assurance he was still here. Somewhere along the way, Taeyong’s own eyes start drooping, exhaustion descending upon him, and he falls asleep, into dreams of twinkling pianos, and open skies.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this chapter feels like more of a filler? idk. but like there's finally going to be more development in jy's relationship next chap onwards so look forward to that ig! i just wanted to set up some more things for both of them before we could move on from here. tysm for reading! </p><p>if you liked it please leave a kudos/comment! really helps in motivating to write!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!! I can't believe I've gotten around to writing this!!! I'm super excited since I've had the idea in my head for quite a while now ;;-;; </p><p>A lot of this is inspired by Esteem on Boss in the mirror, irene kim's podcasts and interviews, and basically just a few other interviews and variety shows where models talked about how stuff works. </p><p>As always, please leave a kudos/comment if you liked it!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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